


Broken Halos (that used to shine)

by MoonlitDesertDreams



Series: New Beginnings [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Banthas (Star Wars), Do not read this if you don't want it spoiled, F/M, Fluff, I'm back, Krayt Dragons (Star Wars), Mandalorian, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Romance, STOP NOW, Season 2, Spoilers, Star Wars - Freeform, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, The Child - Freeform, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Tusken Raiders (Star Wars), Violence, badass females, don't complain when i spoil it, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlitDesertDreams/pseuds/MoonlitDesertDreams
Summary: “Lucky for you, I don’t mind a gamble.” Zakia locked eyes with the man. “Make it twenty seconds, and if I’m right, you hand over the info.”He snorted, nudging the Mandalorian's arm. “A brave one, isn’t she? I see why you keep her around.”---Sequel to Judgement Call
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Series: New Beginnings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871455
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	1. CHAPTER I: BENEATH THE MASK

**Author's Note:**

> OMGGG HIII!!!!  
> Welcome back to the official storyline Mando and Zakia fic!! I hope everyone has had a decent year (despite ongoing issues) and that you're excite for the Mandalorian Season II premiere! If you keep up with 'Before You', you know that I was going to wait until a couple episodes were out and then start storylining this fic, but it was just too much work to keep my excitement dow. I'm doing the episodes real slow and staying within canon as much as possible.  
> And for those of you who don't know, here is the stories in this collection and what they're about. 
> 
> I. Before You - snippets of Mando and Zakia's life before the Child.  
> II. Judgement Call- my original Din/OC fic that follows Season 1  
> III.Broken Halos (That used to shine)
> 
> AGAIN- SPOILERS FOR SEASON II AHEAD
> 
> DON'T DO IT.
> 
> Anyway, i hope you all enjoy, and keep an eye out for my other stories.

_**SPOILERS BELOW THIS LINE** _

* * *

**CHAPTER I: BENEATH THE MASK**

“No, you can’t have spotchka with your milk.”

A gurgle.

“Your Mom would cut my throat while I sleep.”

Another gurgle, followed by a gulping sound that could only mean the Child was enjoying his morning bantha milk.

Zakia stuck her head into the militaristic kitchen area, wringing the ends of her damp hair with a towel. Her feet danced over the familiar floor of the Crest, until a painful collision with metal sent her hopping on a single foot while she clutched the other.

“His Mom is going to shoot you with your own blaster if you don’t learn to pick up your armor.” Zakia snapped into the galley. 

Boots appeared in her hunched field of view, and Zakia straightened up to face her partner. He was helmet-less, as it seemed he was becoming slowly more comfortable with it as the days passed on. There was the hurdle of eating together that they hadn’t yet jumped, but it was a huge adjustment. Neither party pushed for it. The routine had become simple- Din and the baby were up early, and would eat breakfast together. Zakia followed whenever she dragged herself out of bed, even though she rarely ate breakfast to begin with. 

“Sorry. I had to let it dry.”

Zakia’s ability to remain angry at Din had faded, as it was much harder to channel negative feelings towards big brown eyes and messy hair. His appearance was almost polar-opposite to what the helmet displayed: an impassive metal mask. From so many years hiding away, Din was almost overtly expressive, with absolutely no poker face to boast. It was easy to hide behind a shield, but keeping emotions in check on a bare face after years of hiding was not boding well for him. 

“It’s fine.” Zakia pouted, more annoyed by her brain’s decision to let him get away with it- again. 

The Child was wandering near his father’s feet, and stumbled back a step when Din tugged Zakia close to him. 

“I am sorry.” He was almost purring in her ear, and Zakia’s head tilted back on its own accord. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

An alarm from the cockpit blared, and Zakia recognized the hyperspace drop warning. She pointed a finger at the ceiling. 

“Right now? Put it back on and get the- _hmph”_ She was cut off with warm lips on hers, eyes automatically fluttering shut at the sensation. 

Din’s hands trailed down her arms and landed at her waist. His long fingers squeezed into the flesh there, and Zakia moaned quietly against his mouth. 

“You’re… beautiful when… you’re upset.” 

Zakia pulled back from the kiss, able to deduce the playfulness in his eyes. “Cheater.”

Another blaring alarm forced them to part, neither willing to get thrown around the hull like popcorn when the ship dropped out of Hyperdrive. Zakia lifted Din’s chestplate and magnetized it to his underclothes, attaching it carefully and helping him through the rest of the process in swift movements. The helmet was last, and he allowed Zakia to slip it down over his face.

“Good?”

“Great.” His voice filtered back to her with the same electric edge she’d grown used to, almost soothing in its familiarity. 

“I’m gonna get acceptable clothes on. Looks like it’s gonna be dark here, huh?” Zakia knew they were going to a less-than-hospitable planet, and walking around in the dark sounded like no fun at all. 

“Unfortunately.”

Din disappeared into the cockpit, and Zakia to their quarters. The Child waddled after her, eventually latching onto her leg so he moved easily with her. Zakia chuckled at the antics, scooping him up. She knew finding his people was necessary for everyone’s safety, but the thought of turning him over to anyone besides Din terrified her beyond belief. She squeezed a little tighter as she raided her closet, shutting away her thoughts until they were just distant words. 

* * *

To say Zakia and the Mandalorian were thankful to have another floating cradle was an understatement. There was no more shuffling from arm to arm, and no more tossing of a toddler back and forth. It warmed Zakia’s heart to know it was Kuiil’s last build before his death, and she had conditioned herself not to cry after what was probably the tenth time of using it. In the length of time that had passed since the battle on Nevarro, she was still touched by the thought of the Ugnaught and his little moisture farm. 

The planet they landed on- unfamiliar to Zakia and barely charted on maps- was barren until the city’s edge. Random rock formations jutted up from uneven ground, and the waining moon cast a sickly glow across the landscape. The pair walked silently towards the urban area, one name on the forefront of their minds.

Gor Koresh. 

Koresh was rumored to have information on Mandalorian whereabouts, which tied directly to the Child’s species. The Armorer on Nevarro had said she knew stories of the Jedi, and they could only hope other coverts would have more tales to aid in connecting the dots. There was no other way to gain information easily- the Child couldn’t speak, and when they took him from Arvala-7, it wasn’t from his family. 

He was alone in the galaxy as far as they knew; if the Imps wanted him this bad, the possibility his species had been destroyed in the war was a big one. 

“Stay sharp.” Din rumbled the caution to Zakia, a new habit of his since revealing his face to her. 

They trod down alleyways and underneath buzzing streetlamps. Zakia tried her best to ignore the tiny red flashes and muted growls from the darkness, and focused on swathes of colorful graffiti littering the city. It featured anti-war sentiments as well as various droids and models of Stormtroopers. The colorful wall stretched for several metres, up to a door guarded by a red-skinned Twi. 

“I’m here to see Gor Koresh.”

Din’s words prompted a curious glance from the Twi to the Child, and back to Zakia. She exchanged the look for a sarcastic smile, and he sighed. 

“Enjoy the fights.”

Dirt and grime lingered in the air as the door swept open. A raucous bout of cheering and hollering filled their ears, and the energy was palpable. Zakia stayed in step with the Mandalorian, observing the underground fight ring they had walked into. Two Gamorreans were swinging battle axes in the midst of all of it, the crowd’s mood changing with each swing. 

Zakia allowed Mando’s HUD tracking to lead them to Koresh, who was relatively isolated from the rest of the crowd. He wore a blazer that contrasted with the sickly green of his Abyssin skin, and didn’t look their way when the trio approached. The Mandalorian sat beside him, while Zakia opted to settle for the row behind her partner. They were small enough bleachers that even her short legs brushed Din’s back at rest. 

“You know this is no place for a Child.” Gor’s choice of greeting was odd, though Zakia could honestly say she’d heard worse. 

“Wherever I go, he goes.” Mando responded in a sharp tone, leaving little room for argument. 

“So I’ve heard.” However, the wiggle room that did remain after Mando’s statement was found by the slimy businessman before them. “You have a babysitter, no?”

Zakia scoffed. “It sounds like you need one.”

Koresh turned to her. “And you’re the partner I’ve heard about. Very skilled.” 

The statement was not outwardly hostile, but the implied context rubbed her the wrong way. “That’s what “I’ve been told.”

“We’ve been quested to bring this one back to his kind. If I can locate other Mandalorians, they can help guide me.” Mando stopped Zakia’s interactions before they took a turn. The Child perked up as if it knew they were discussing him. “I’m told you know where to find them.”

The Abyssin’s lone eyeball scanned Din. “It’s uncouth to talk business immediately. Just enjoy the entertainment.”

Already keeping a partial eye on the fight, Zakia turned the remainder of her attention to it. One finally seemed to be getting an upper hand, and the end grew nigh. 

“Bah! My Gamorrean’s not doing well.” Koresh complained, joining in the chorus of hoots and hollers. After a swing and a miss by one of the Gamorreans in the ring, Koresh motioned to Din. “Do you gamble, Mando?”

Zakia held back her snort. The idea of the ever-practical Din Djarin gambling was so far from reality she had to pretend to even imagine it. 

“Not when it can be avoided.” 

“Well I’ll bet you for the information you seek, that this Gamorrean is gonna die within the next minute and a half-” Koresh motioned to his, “-and all you have to put up in exchange is your shiny beskar armor.”

Zakia tensed, recognizing the dread creeping into her belly. She gripped a hand around the butt of her blaster, tapping her finger against the safety switch. The match was drawing close, Gor’s beast growing more tired by the second. 

“I’m prepared to pay you for the information. I’m not leaving my fate up-”

Zakia leaned down between the men as an idea struck her. Gor liked to gamble- she could rearrange the bet.

“Lucky for you, I don’t mind a gamble.” Zakia ran her tongue over her teeth, turning her gaze to Koresh. “Make it twenty seconds, and if I’m right, you hand over the info.”

Koresh snorted. “A brave one, isn’t she? I see why you keep her around.”

Rolling her eyes, Zakia performed a practiced quick-draw, firing a single blaster round through the head of Koresh’s Gamorrean opponent. The entire building bursted into cacophony, fleeing accompanied by screams and shouts. 

Din turned his visor to face her, and the little bit of helmet that Zakia spoke indicated he wasn’t angry rather than curious. 

“I don’t play games anymore, Mr. Koresh.” Zakia’s blaster was back in its holster already as she waited.

“Nor do I.”

A familiar clicking told Zakia that blasters were being primed, and she stilled as men crept into the light with weapons trained on her and Mando. 

Gor chuckled. “Thank you for coming to me. Normally I have to seek out remnants of you Mandalorians in your hidden hives to harvest your precious shiny shells.” His blaster was trained underneath the chin of Din’s helmet, though Zakia could see from her position that it wasn’t armed. “Beskar’s value continues to rise; I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me now, or I will peel it off your corpse.”

Zakia counted six men including Koresh. Two to six wasn’t terrible where they were concerned. Her and Mando had taken on more. Not to mention the fact that since Nevarro, they were both armed to the gills all the time. 

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.” Mando warned. 

Tiny pinpricks of blue light on Din’s bracer alerted Zakia to the whistling bird’s priming mechanism, and she smirked. The Child took note as well, ducking back into his cradle and locking the lid closed. 

“I thought you said you weren’t a gambler?” 

Zakia’s smiled stretched further. 

“I’m not.” 

The whistling birds fired all together, and Zakia ducked her head towards Din’s shoulders to avoid any fallout. After the coast cleared, she leapt down the bleachers, intercepted by one of the remaining men and the same time the surviving Gamorrean jumped Din.

Zakia faced off with the skinny man in front of her. “Come on, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a good fight.”

The man lunged, and Zakia side-stepped him easily, rolling her eyes and thrusting her vibroblade through the back of his neck before he could turn around. She watched the man fall, retrieving her blade. Din was squared up with two others, while Koresh tried to flee out the back door. 

“Mando?” Zakia called, already following the Abyssin to the door.

“I see.” He replied. 

Zakia dashed after the short man, breathing in grimy city air as she emerged onto the street. The stocky figure of Gor Koresh was toddling- you could barely call it running- down the street, and Zakia sprinted after. She snatched a blaster, firing a single shot into his calf. Koresh fell to his knees, immediately yielding when she pressed a blade to his throat. She heard the Mandalorian’s steady footsteps behind her, and tossed a look over her shoulder. 

“Took you long enough.” Zakia tucked her blade up under Koresh’s chink, most likely drawing blood. 

“I got caught up.” Din kept up her ruse until Gor spoke up. 

“Alright, stop, stop! I’ll tell you where he is.” A finger pointed up as Mando circled to Koresh’s front “But you have to give me your word that you won’t kill me.”

“I promise you will not die by my hand. Now, where is the Mandalorian you know of?” Mando grabbed Koresh’s chin, jerking it dangerously close to Zakia’s knife.

“Tatooine.” Koresh said, groaning in pain. 

“What?” Zakia hissed. “We were just there.”

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine.” Koresh assured. Zakia kept the knife on him. 

“We’ve spent much time on Tatooine. I never saw a Mandalorian there.” Din told him, kneeling down to eye level. 

“My information is good, I tell you. The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the _Gotra_.” Gor let out another sound of anguish as Zakia pulled the knife away and stood back to the Mandalorian’s side. 

“Tatooine?” She wondered aloud, tipping her head to Din. 

“Tatooine.” 

Smiling at her companion, the pair turned from Gor Koresh and walked out of the city the same way they’d come in. The baby’s pram floated near Zakia’s side, still closed away from the world.

“Wait! You can’t leave me like this! I can’t walk!” Koresh called. “Help me up!”

Din’s visor paused on Zakia before he rotated all the way around. Now that she could picture his face, she imagined the mischief in his brown eyes as he left Koresh there. For all of the terrible things he’d recounted about hunting Mandalorians, Zakia felt it was deserved. 

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” 

Going even further to surprise Zakia, Din pulled his blaster and fired a single, left-handed shot into the single lamp that lit the street. As soon as darkness prevailed, red eyes crept from the shadows towards where they’d left the little man lay.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing? I can pay!” Gor yelled. “Mando! Mando!”

His screams were drowned out by the growl of hungry animals. The pair of bounty-hunters-turned-makeshift-parents continued on, not the slightest bit rueful for their actions. 

“I hope you have your summer clothes ready to go.” Zakia quipped as they neared the Crest. The hatch lowered with her braced control. 

“I was thinking about pulling out the boardshorts…” Din muttered as they boarded, drawing a laugh from Zakia. She opened the floating pram and withdrew the Child. He was happy as pie to be back on board, and wiggled from her grip almost instantly. 

Seeking out his new favorite toy, a stuffed Tauntaun Zakia had been gifted from a merchant at one of their field stops, the Child happily climbed into his sleeping space. Din ran a gloved finger across the top of one ear, scaling the ladder to the cockpit to get them back into orbit and on a path to Tatooine as soon as possible. 

Zakia hopped into the bunk with the Child, allowing him to curl against her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking over the idea of returning to the hot hellscape of Tatooine. Their last stop there had been a nightmare at every turn, and she was not entirely fond of the idea they were returning so soon. Regardless, she was vested in finding another Covert to help guide them. 

A brush of something over Zakia’s ankle roused her from the light sleep she’d fallen into, and she watched the Mandalorian as he gripped her joint. It was a reassuring gesture, as if he’d sensed her apprehension from far away. 

“We’re on course. It’s gonna be a little while.”

Zakia ganashed her jaw sleepily, reaching a hand down to touch his arm. This new form of gentle communication was entirely new since Nevarro. It had been a long while since Din had been shy from touch, but after his near-death experience and helmet removal it was as if a whole other side of his personality was available. He communicated more than usual, giving Zakia a heads up or leaving a note on the HoloPad whenever he went somewhere without her. There was a much-needed separation that was no longer terrifying, the codependency lessening as the trust between them grew. It was easier to admit worry and speak freely without the only response being a beskar stare. 

After a length of time that was quickly nearing on a decade, Zakia felt like she finally _knew_ the man beneath the mask. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. CHAPTER II: NO MORE DENTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,  
> I'm happy to have inspiration to write again and can't wait to entertain ya'll. To my regulars who have stuck with me from the beginning, you are all amazing and I love being able to read your comments on every chapter. Even if you're new, I love hearing (read: reading) your voice whenever I get an email from this site. It never fails to make my day.  
> Anyway, I'm trying to work on chapters as quick as I can, but between online classes and work, it's tough. I meant to have this out earlier in the week, but I do live in the US so if you've watched any news, I'm sure you know why I'm delayed. But with that said, I just wanna let all of you know that regardless of politics, it's always a good idea to bring positivity into the world to help get rid of negativity. Let's all manifest a great future where we all get along better ;)
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy. Leave comments and kudos/likes/favorites/bookmarks/follows/subscribe (depending on which site you're on) so we can all geek out about the Mandalorian together.

**MANDO SEASON 2 SPOILERS BELOW!!!**

* * *

Tatooine looked the same as Zakia had seen it last: hot and deserted. 

They flew low over the planet towards Mos Eisley, this time with Zakia in the pilot seat while Din stood with one hand propped above the windscreen. He leered into her space, critiquing her atmospheric entry point and unsteady cruising speed. 

“If there are any other Mandalorians on Tatooine, they better not be as annoying as you.” Zakia snipped as they neared Peli Motto’s dock. 

She prayed that the spunky mechanic wouldn’t be too angry at their reappearance, given she was held hostage last time they were around. The kid seemed to recognize the sights, as he cooed loudy from his place in Din’s arms. Zakia had preemptively wrapped herself in a baby sling they had purchased, one that could be easily changed in size to fit her or the Mandalorian. She was proud to say they were _far_ more prepared to parent than the last time around, if a bit more overprotective than before. 

“If there are other Mandalorians on Tatooine, I might stay with them and kick you out.” Din countered, nudging her out of the seat once the landing gear was down. 

“You’d miss me.” 

Both parties dropped into the gulley of the ship as the ramp lowered. Zakia strapped on her pistols and knives, pausing as Din reached around from behind her to put the baby in the sling. She smoothed the pad of her thumb over his forehead, eliciting a sassy squeal and clicking claws. 

“Oh hush, you demon.” Zakia tapped his hands, and the kid broke into giggles. 

Giggles which were drowned out by mechanical chirps and whirs that could only belong to droids. Din tipped his head for her to follow, and disembarked. His armor clanked heavily with each step, exaggerated by the added weight of the jetpack now permanently affixed to him. 

Sure enough, Peli Motto was waiting for them. She scolded the three pit droids from last time as they ran towards the Crest with oil cans and fuel lines in-hand. Zakia chuckled at her lecturing about Mando’s anti-droid sentiments. He might have been hard on them, but after IG-11 things were slightly different. 

“Might as well let them have at it.” He took a sideways step, neck craning to survey the ship. “The Crest needs a good once-over.”

Peli threw her hands up. “Oh! So he likes droids now.” She turned to the droids, “Well, you heard him. Give it a once-over!”

Din strode across the dock, narrowly missing a collision with the DUM machines as they got to work. Zakia was readjusting the Child, trying to relieve the odd pressure from her chest. 

“I guess a lot has changed since you were last in-”

Din side-stepped out of Motto’s line of sight, revealing Zakia and the kid. Her face lit up in a hundred watt smile, reaching out for the baby. 

“Oh, Thank the Force! This little thing has had me worried sick!” Peli lifted the baby up high before bringing him back down to eye level. “At least I could trust your Mama to watch out for you, little womp rat.”

Zakia nodded. “He’s a ball of laughs. Especially when he won’t sleep unless his dinner is a live frog.”

Perhaps they weren’t _great_ with parenting when it came to feeding time. One too many cries and a tired Mandalorian normally ends with the kid getting what he wants, when he wants it. Zakia was not unaware that Din had bought a plethora of frogs that were able to be kept on carbonite until he needed them, though she was not about to have a parental debate just yet. 

“Well it looks like he remembers me!” Motto cheered, cradling him close while the baby reached for her hair. 

A hand that Zakia sensed to be nervous crept up to rest on the ledge created by her belt, and she sent a reassuring look in Din’s direction. They were both concerned with being captured or hunted down, and talking to people for leisure had not been a luxury for them in recent moons. But Peli was different… motherly, in her own spastic way. 

“How much do you want for it? Just kidding. But not really.” Peli continued, “You know, if this thing ever divides or buds, I will gladly pay for the offspring.” 

Distracted by another craft in the bay, Zakia wandered towards the door they had used last time. There was a hissing of air from the Crest where the droids were working, but she was too busy staring at the mid-war built cruiser in front of her. Just big enough for one person to pilot and sleep, it was awfully familiar. 

_“What the hell, Mando?”_

_Zakia stomped towards the armor-clad bounty hunter who currently held her quarry._

_“It’s your bounty, Zakia.” Mando tossed the limp body of a Kubaz towards her. “I’m just here for moral support.”_

_“And to put a dent in my new cruiser! Kriffing Mandalorian! You’re paying for this!” Zakia stabbed at a fresh dent and scorch mark, courtesy of his blaster fire._

_“You’d be dead.”_

_“I had it handled, you misogynistic ass.” Zakia motioned to her own guns, tempted to level one at his stupid armor and pull the trigger just to see him in pain._

_The Mandalorian only chuckled, tipping his helmet. “I’ll see you later, Zak.”_

In Peli’s bay, Zakia ran her hand over a similar dent. The exact same dent in the exact same spot. She laughed in disbelief, pressing the release for the cockpit and listening to a familiar hiss. 

“Damn, it really is it.” Zakia muttered to herself. 

“Hey! You looking to buy something to get away from him already?” 

Zakia twisted to see Peli and Din walking her way, the former still coddling the Child in her arms. Din’s helmet was tilted at a curious angle, most likely scanning the old ship over. 

“Is that-?

Zakia grinned. “It is! Look, your dent is still in it.”

Peli Motto looked at the pair as if they had sprouted antennas and started dancing for the Hutts. The baby was grinning, apparently sensing the nostalgia or excitement radiating from his female guardian. 

“This is my ship, Motto. At least it used to be. I got ambushed by a Wookiee and he picked me up so I never knew what happened to it after the salvage dealer.” Zakia rambled. 

Peli shrugged. “I got it from some Jawas in Mos Espa after they landed here. Dumb little things traded me this for some heating cores and bantha meat.”

“Of course it was Jawas. I still can't believe it’s in one piece. Does it run?” Zakia asked of Peli. 

“Not sure. I haven’t really got around to it yet-” Peli motioned to the mess of a dock she had, “-if you can believe it.”

Din looked at his partner. “Wanna test it out?”

“To find the Mandalorian?” 

“It would be a few days’ trip by speeder bike. Maybe a half if this thing runs.” Din nodded at the craft, and a smile split Zakia’s face. The scar under her eye bunched up tight, and she realized how long it had been since she smiled properly.

“No more dents in it, please.” Zakia teased, and Din nudged her temple with his helmet.

“No more dents.” 

“Ugh, no wonder you wear all that armor when you’re so soft.” Peli handed the kid to Din. “Let’s get this running and get you out of here before I vomit.”

* * *

It was the next morning before the trio was successfully able to arrive in Mos Pelgo, where Koresh had promised they’d find a Mandalorian. 

Zakia and Peli had worked on tuning up the old cruiser, which turned out to be perfect for trans-desert travel until the pressurization could be fixed. It was smooth and familiar, eliciting hoots and hollers from Zakia as she sped over the dunes. 

“You enjoyed that a little too much.” Din remarked from his seat, one hand fixed firmly around the Child in his lap. Zakia drew her headwrap up and over her chin, concealing the scarred portion of her face.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t.” 

A mutually agreed decision had them park the cruiser right outside the city walls, or rather, what was left of them. Peli had told them Mos Pelgo was a raided mining town, raising red flags for everyone involved. People weren’t afraid to defend their homes in places like Mos Pelgo, and outsiders were not generally a welcome sight. 

The baby cooed as the cruiser windscreen unsealed and allowed them an exit. Tatooine’s suns baked down on them, and Zakia stared at her partner. 

“How are you not heat stroking?” 

Din handed the Child off to her. “Now that you mention it, you’re almost as red as a Gundark. Maybe you should cover up.”

Zakia observed her own clothing at his insinuation. Her legs were covered by canvas pants that clung tight to her form, a sliver of midriff exposed between them and her cream-colored white wrap top that lacked any sleeves beyond her shoulders. 

“It’s called a tan. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” Zakia secured the Child into her sling, to which she was immediately met with cries of protest. “See, he agrees.”

Din tapped the Child’s ears to distract him a moment. “You’re ready?”

“Of course.”

A short walk to the cantina in town was consistently hindered by a fussy baby. Zakia passed him to the Mandalorian and patted his tiny back several times before just allowing the green demon to have free range of the sandy ground. To this, he happily toddled with them, using her bootstraps to steady himself when necessary. 

“Womp rat.” Din muttered as they climbed the cantina stairs.

Mos Pelgo was a stereotypical war-ravaged town, with buildings beaten by sand and sun, the people looking just as worn. Everyone who was outside had eyes on the three newcomers, but didn’t bother moving out of their respective shady areas. 

Zakia continued to absorb her surroundings while helping the baby follow Din into the building. Three stairs acted as an impassable hurdle, and the Child pouted at the bottom. Stairs had been a strange phobia of his since Nevarro, but it was on the ‘we’ll work on it when we have time’ list. 

Funny, it seemed like quite a few things were one that list. 

Inside the bar, a Weequay stood polishing glasses. Zakia noted they were impeccable compared to the dusty tables. Not a big drinking town. Din paused in the doorway to scan the room, always cautious in unfamiliar places. The baby hobbled close to Zakia’s leg occasionally babbling nonsense. 

And as she suspected, for all of their traveling to Mos Pelgo, Din was greeted with a gruff: “Can I help you?”

The Weequay’s face was stoic, the only real character about him was the white plaits that fell down from the side of his head to his waist. But in comparison to a Mandalorian, stoic was indeed meaningless. 

“I’m looking for a Mandalorian.” Din’s hands rested on the side of the bar, partially relaxed but tense at the shoulder. 

“Well, we don’t get many visitors in these parts. Can you describe him?” A bit more friendly this time around. 

“Big and angry, looks like him?” Zakia hitched a thumb towards Din and, as she had _many_ times while working with him, sensed the eye roll. 

“Hm… You mean the Marshal?”

Tugging the sand-colored wrap over her face until it laid around her neck, Zakia gawked. It wasn’t that she didn’t expect to find another Mandalorian, but their search actually turning up results was not normal. 

“Your Marshal wears Mandalorian armor?” 

Zakia was facing the bar, but felt the planks quiver under her boots when someone stepped into the doorway behind her. The Weequay turned to look beyond her shortly after, and she knew she was right. 

“See for yourself.” 

Her first instinct was to draw a blaster, but Zakia resisted the urge and simply spun around. She craned her neck to take in another Mandalorian helmet, this one with faded green paint and chipped red trim. There was a distinct blaster mark in the forehead area. Around the man’s neck there was a red cowl, proven to be untidy as slivers of skin were visible. His height rivaled Din’s, though he was thin compared to her Mandalorian’s bulky frame. 

“Interesting.” Zakia hummed. For someone who was supposed to be a Mandalorian, this guy was hardly put together. 

“What brings you here, strangers?” 

A quick glance towards Din confirmed he was just as puzzled as her. The odd tilt of his head and straightened posture was a giveaway. 

“We’ve been searching for you for many parsecs.” Din explained, one hand remaining on the bar across from its tender. 

“Well, now you found me. Weequay, two snorts of spotchka.” The man brushed past Zakia towards the bar, and she raised her brows. 

“Make it three.” She snatched a glass from his hand, shooting a warning look in Din’s direction. 

“You heard her.” The stranger said, “Care to join me?”

Zakia poured herself a glass before he wandered away with the flagon. She was disinclined to accept his offer, instead leaning back against the bar beside Din. The kid was still exploring the area by their feet, apparently just as annoyed by the man’s presence. 

A metallic clank drew Zakia’s attention away from the baby, and she was surprised to see the green helmet sitting idly on the table. Her eyes tracked up the man’s attire to his now-exposed face. Probably a few years older than herself or Din, he had a close-trimmed gray beard and graying blonde hair that was cut short on the sides. 

While she was unsure if there were variations of the Way, Zakia was fairly certain that none allowed others to reveal their faces without certain circumstances to dictate it. Din seemed equally as surprised, and they both tensed as he spoke again. 

“You know, I’ve never met a real Mandalorian.”

  
  
  
  
  



	3. CHAPTER III: A COMMON ENEMY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at me being consistent! 
> 
> Honestly, don’t get used to it, it’s a weekend thing. Once the week comes, work and school are back to making me miserable.  
> Anywho, here’s me plugging along into Chapter 9: The Marshal. I know I said I was going to stick to canon as much as possible but ehhhh I’m taking a few small liberties (nothing plot-altering, just some small stuff) because this is fanfiction world and I can :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy, all your comments/kudos/subs/bookmarks/likes/follows/favorites/etc keep me going each time I sit down to write!

**MANDO SEASON 2 SPOILERS BELOW!!!**

* * *

Since their confrontation with Moff Gideon on Nevarro, not a lot had surprised Din Djarin. He had learned plenty in the past few moons, and the fact that the Marshal before them was no real Mandalorian didn’t serve as a surprise. 

It was more of a raging disappointment.

Zakia seemed to have him figured out just the same, though Din suspected spending extensive amounts of time with himself had given her pretty good basis to go on. This man was tall and lanky, with low-hanging belts. His armor was ill-fitted and old-fashioned, and skin showed through his neck and wrists. Mandalorians were neat, tidy warriors who weren’t often caught looking rumpled if they could help it. But this imposter looked purposefully unkempt, as if he was trying to prove something. 

“I know you’re good at killing.” The man continued from his blatant admittance of being a fraud. “And probably none too happy to see me wearing this hardware.”

To his right, Zakia downed her spotchka. The impatience was tangible as it rolled off of her. She was much more relaxed and fitting back into her real personality since they left Nevarro. The baby was their Foundling, and they were a Clan of Three. The Mando’a significance weighed much heavier on him, but Din knew she felt the importance of it nonetheless. 

“So… I figure only one of us is walking out of here.” 

Din’s posture automatically shifted so his hand hung over his blaster. Zakia stilled beside him, elbow brushing his arm as she set a hand on her waist. 

“But then I see this fine lady and the little guy- and, I think, maybe I pegged you wrong.” 

Zakia’s eyes glossed over Din to seek out the Child at the same time she responded. “I think you have _me_ pegged wrong. Who the hell are you?”

The man chuckled.

“Answer.” Din inclined his chin, to which the man held up his hands in a surrender position. 

“I’m Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo.” He sat a snort of spotchka on the far side of the table from him. Apparently a peace offering to the Mandalorian.

“Where’d you get the armor?” Din demanded, remaining stock-still near the bar. He was trying to get a feel for the man’s attitude, which seemed to flicker depending on who spoke. 

“Bought it off some Jawas.” 

Aside from the fact that Beskar was incredibly valuable in a normal economy, any Coverts that he managed to find would benefit greatly from even one old set of armor. It was sacred to their religion and culture, and Din found himself stewing over the fact that Cobb wore it so nonchalantly. Beskar belonged in the hands of its ancestral forgers, not some third-rate shooter on Tatooine. 

“Hand it over.” Din didn’t expect the man to undress right there and hand it over, but it was worth a shot. 

Vanth simply chuckled, his empty cup settling on the table with a thud. “Look, pal, I’m sure you call the shots where you come from, but ‘round here, I’m the one who tells folks what to do.” 

Zakia looked up at her partner, respectfully refraining from arguing about what was best for his culture. 

Two steps forward. 

“Take it off.” Din paused. “Or I will.”

Vanth didn’t move from his seat, only glanced from the kid to Zakia. “We gonna do this in front of your whole family?”

Another step. 

“They’ve seen worse.”

Zakia huffed from beside him, and Din was surprised she hadn’t yet lashed out. Being degraded because of her sex was fairly common in their line of work, but those who knew her generally respected Zakia’s abilities. Her personality was arduous to deal with, but her skills in weaponry were smooth. Silent and deadly. 

“Right here, then?” 

Din’s fingers brushed his blaster, and he heard the Weequay back up a couple steps. Zakia stood from the bar, reanimating as the conversation played out. 

“Right here.”

It was then Cobb stood, steeling his face and wiggling his fingers above his holster. Din stood motionless still, waiting for any move from the older man. Zakia’s icy eyes cut a path back and forth between the two. She angled herself firmy beside the Mandalorian, and before Din could blink, her pistol was aimed at Cobb. 

The other man was seconds behind her, admittedly looking surprised. Zakia’s blaster wasn’t even primed to fire, Din noticed, and he smirked beneath the helmet at her antics. As he had found out early on: underestimating a former mercenary and sharpshooter was never in someone’s best interests. 

“Listen, _Cobb,_ I’m bored and sweating. This planet is a hellhole- no offense- and I would really prefer we leave without the kid having to see another person shot.” Zakia cleared her throat, “So what do you say you just take the armor off so me and my partner can be on our way?”

Din glanced from her and back to Vanth, who had grown only slightly more tense. “Alright miss, why don’t you just set that down?’

“Take it off.” Din reiterated his final goal, lifting a foot to move closer to his target. 

Just as his boot made contact with the floor, they vibrated against the planks. The Mandalorian looked from the ceiling to the floor, not expecting an Earthquake to play referee. A cascade of shudders and sudden movements beneath them increased, and Zakia holstered her blaster in favor of grabbing Din’s vambrace for support. 

Cobb holstered his own blaster, holding up a single finger as he breezed towards the doorway. Zakia and Din followed behind, watching as the townsfolk ran for cover in their houses. While it was pandemonium, none of the people seemed particularly surprised by the goings on. 

“What the hell?” Zakia muttered from Din’s side. 

The sandy pathway which created the main drag of Mos Pelgo shifted and churned on the north end of town. Formations that Din likened to ocean waves rattled the buildings and sent a sandy spray in all different directions. The sand rippled through town, the waves passing by the cantina and coming to a head in the south. A lone bantha stood drinking at the edge of town, grunting at the disturbance. 

Din had a feeling he knew what was coming, but still flinched when the Krayt Dragon’s head emerged with a roar and consumed the bantha like it was nothing more than a snack. Which, to it, probably was. 

On the other hand, Zakia’s hands clapped over her ears and she jumped violently into Din’s side. The noise from the dragon was indeed deafening, and Din was only saved by the beskar encasing his head. The blonde gripped his pauldron with one hand after it passed, the other clutching her chest. 

“Maybe we can work something out.”

Din looked to Vanth, who marched back into the cantina. Zakia, still wide-eyed and breathing heavily, looked up at the Mandalorian. 

“That shit was _huge_.” She deadpanned, before standing back upright. “Kriff, where’s the kid?”

They reentered the cantine, and Zakia swiped the kid from where he’d taken cover inside of an old spitoon. Din laughed beneath the helmet as she fretted, but his mind was stuck on the Krayt dragon and what sort of deal Vanth would work out.

“Care to take a stroll?”

Cobb was standing closer to them this time, and it seemed any animosity had taken a seat since the dragon’s appearance. Din nodded his approval, and made sure Zakia had the kid handled before pacing out of the cantina behind Vanth. Once again, the little green demon felt the need to walk with them instead of be contained in the sling, so Zakia allowed him freedom

“That creature has been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelso was established.” Vanth explained, “Thanks to this armor, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sandpeople. They look to me to protect ‘em.”

Din understood his motivations. He knew how useful beskar was in keeping a person safe, and did not take his for granted. It was no question that both he and Zakia would be dead without it at this point. Even an old set still deflected blaster shots. 

“The dragon is too much, I take it?” Zakia finished the thought for him, nuding the Child with her toe to keep him entertained. 

Cobb leaned on a nearby water spicket, gaze roaming between the two bounty hunters. He nodded in answer to her question. “Help me kill it, I’ll give you the armor.”

Din considered the words for a moment, and had to resist a condescending snort. “Deal. We’ll cruise back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky.”

From somewhere behind him, Zakia chimed in: “A bantha would make a great lure.”

“Not so simple.” Cobb broke in, the ship passes above it, it senses the vibration and stays underground. But I know where it lives.” 

“How far?” 

Unbeknownst to Din, Zakia gawked at his helmet. His stupid metal head really thought they were going to have a chance at killing this thing from the ground? 

“Not far.”

Zakia rapped her fingers against Din’s bracer. “Can I talk to you for a moment, _dear?”_

He acquiesced her, allowing the petite woman to lead him a few feet away. 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but we are _not_ doing this again.” Zakia growled. “It’s the mudhorn all over. But five-thousand times the size!”

“That’s an exaggeration.” Din shot back at her numbers, and she narrowed her eyes. 

“Listen, I know beskar is scared to you, but it’s not worth getting eaten by the Krayt dragon. Which, by the way, I was not aware existed until twenty minutes ago!” She hissed the last sentence under her breath, checking to make sure Vanth wasn’t listening. 

“I have to return it to a covert. You saw Nevarro, Zak. Whatever’s left… it’s-” Din cut himself of, reminding his brain of the renewed understanding between them since she had seen his face. “I can’t leave without it. It would be a disservice to my people.”

Zakia chewed on her lip, lifting the baby to rest on her hip as he gurgled from the ground. “We go look, but if it’s not possible…”

“I am not going to chance anything.” Din assured. 

“Fine.” She relented. “But take him. I’ve been carrying him around lately, it’s your turn.”

Saving them the worry of something going wrong with Zakia’s old cruiser, Cobb supplied them a speeder that was made of salvaged parts. It looked untrustworthy, but he reassured the pair that it would be the best mode of travel for where they were going. 

Zakia sat at the controls, the Child strapped to her front while Din rested comfortably behind her with an arm around her waist. She declined his request to drive, citing the inconvenience of his flying phoenix. He was not inclined to argue, and allowed her to race across the dunes with Vanth. 

Once they were side-by-side and both speeders were up to gear, Cobb spoke up. 

“You don’t understand what it was like. It started after we got news of the Death Star blowing up. The second one, that is…” 

Din listened closely as Vanth explained Mos Pelgo’s history. Again, the feeling that people had been treated unfairly by both the Empire and some independent groups was shared. Cobb might have been an imposter, but the trading with Jawas for armor was not a direct attack on real Mandalorian culture. In fact, Din realized it as a noble cause. This one man had saved the town, and was trying to prop it up despite shaky legs. 

Shortly after silence befell them, Zakia spoke in Din’s direction. “Are you less offended now?”

He playfully pinched the skin that rested beneath his gloves. “I’m thrilled.”

Cobb led them for a few more clicks, eventually up rocky plateaus and into a winding canyon. They had to decrease speed then, avoiding protrusions of stone and spiky outcrops. The pair of machines continued, and Zakia’s body grew tense beneath Din’s hands.

“What’s wrong?” He set the chin of his helmet on her shoulder so she could hear. 

“I just feel trapped in here..”

She was barely through speaking when a low roar echoed through the canyon. The sound was not unlike the Krayt dragon. Zakia and Vanth both pulled their speeders to a halt, and the two bounty hunters both pulled rifles from the back and used the machine as cover. Between the speeders and the guns, they had a solid wall to block any creatures that may pass. 

More strange noises swept across the ground, and Din furrowed his brow. The more they called, the more familiar the sounds grew. His grip on the Amban lessened, and he lifted his helmet away from the stock when a four legged creature crept out from behind the rocks. Zakia pulled back as well- this wasn’t the first time she had encountered massiffs with him. 

Din stood, shouting in his best Tusken voice. It was guttural and uncomfortable, but Din knew it well enough that the massiffs halted. They sniffed curiously, and the Mandalorian walked from behind the speeder. 

“What the hell you doin’?” Vanth murmured as he walked by. Din held up a hand to quiet him, and continued towards the reptilian creatures at the mouth of the canyon. 

He continued forward, speaking low reward phrases and coaxing the alpha his way. Din kneeled down, rubbing fondly at the creature’s shoulders as it panted happily. Zakia’s laugh was trickling beneath his helmet, while Vanth was still confused as could be. 

“Mando, can we keep one?” Zakia asked as she neared, sticking close to him so the massiffs allowed her approach. She scratched the creature under its chin, and the baby strapped to her front cooed with excitement. 

However, the Mandalorian was too occupied with the approach of two Tuskens. He knew their cultures were on good terms, as their last trip to Tatooine had displayed, but still stood his ground. 

Zakia returned to her feet as well, keeping an eye on their assumed allies while Din spoke back and forth with exaggerated hand motions. 

“Hey, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Vanth asked. Zakia shrugged, taking a couple steps in his direction. 

“Oh, I’m as lost as you. Tuskens are his thing.” Zakia nodded to her partner, who was slowly turning back to them.

“They want to kill the Krayt dragon too.” 

* * *

As the twin suns set over Tatooine, Zakia, Din, and their new companion were taken to a Tusken camp. It sufficed to say Tuskens did not do warm greetings, but her and Din were ushered to a tepee for the night by the same pair who had allowed her passage when they hunted Fennec Shand. By the time they were there, the baby was fussy and hungry, clawing at the air and snapping his little claws towards Zakia. 

Vanth had been taken to his own area, and given instructions to meet Din by the fire in ten minutes. It was rude to decline an offer in Tusken culture, though Zakia was exempted when Din explained she had to care for the Child. A younger child brought some sort of spiced, preserved meat and a flagon of bantha milk to their tent after Din headed to the fire, and Zakia nodded thankfully. 

The Child’s cries were getting out of hand, and she shushed him. “Hey, stop it. You know how this works.”

Zakia poured a small cup of milk, allowing grabby baby claws to clench it and drink until she could get food portioned out. Despite her best efforts, the Child finished the small cup in a few gulps and began his raucous crying again. The fussiness was new- it had started just before they landed on the planet where Gor Koresh resided. Whether it was some sort of strange separation anxiety or teething, Zakia didn’t know. She did her best to keep him happy, but even with her and Din’s best efforts he was cranky a majority of their downtime. 

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Zakia lifted him up and offered a chunk of meat, but the Child shoved her hand away with tears streaming down his face. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what you want.” 

Only sobs answered her, and the blonde sighed. The green monster buried his face into her collarbone, clutching at the tan of her shirt and using it as a snot rag. “Great.”

Looking to the cot, she pointed. The warm blankets were calling her name, as the desert temperature had plunged with the loss of the suns. “Bedtime?”

The wails grew louder. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Here.” Zakia set him down in front of the tiny meat chunks, “Just for a second while I change.” 

She forced herself to ignore the keening from the baby, rotating away from the door as she pulled her sleeveless shirt off. The chilly air bit at the skin beneath her wrapped breasts, and she rifled through her bag until she found one of Din’s tunics hiding at the bottom. Zakia was in the middle of yanking it over her head when the tent flap shot open. 

A frantic Mandalorian with a blaster drawn tumbled in, and Zakia yelped in surprise. The baby paused his crying, though still whimpered pathetically from the floor. 

“Din! What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” Din’s voice was shaking with concern, and Zakia couldn’t figure out why aside from the baby’s cries. 

“What- I-I don’t know, he’s just fussy, everything’s fine.” Zakia shot back, untangling herself from the shirt.

Din shook his head. “No, no. Why’d you call for me then? It sounded like you were hurt, I-” He stopped, surveying her. “You’re fine.”

Zakia raised her brows. “I was better before you scared me half to death.”

“You didn’t call for me?” Din pressed. 

“No, I told you, he’s just upset.”

As if on cue, the baby started high-pitched squeals again, tears leaking all over the canvas mat. Din was motionless, staring at the creature. The baby reached for him now, and Zakia lifted him from the ground. She pressed him into the Mandalorian’s chest. 

“Zak, I heard you call my name.” 

Zakia’s glacial orbs stared up at his helmet. “I didn’t. Really, I was just trying to change clothes and he’s inconsolable.” she rubbed her eyes, “And I’m at my wits end trying to please him today.”

Din looked down at the Child in his arms, who was now crooning against his cuirass. He stared at the little being, wondering what he was capable of. He had choked Cara without a blink and forced flames back at the Incinerator, but was getting into other’s minds another talent?

“Zak.” Din swayed back and forth as an attempt to relax the baby, and it actually seemed to be working. 

“Is he actually quieting down?” Zakia peeked at the baby, whose tear-stained face was starting to relax. “Maybe he just wanted you this whole time? You know how he gets at night.”

Maybe he did want Din to hold him. And what better way for a sorcerer- the word the Armorer had used felt foreign in his mind- who couldn’t communicate through Basic to let his guardian know he was needed. Certainly it wasn’t to endanger Zakia, but what if Din thought she was in trouble? The kid had been around them both enough to understand their bond. 

“I think he did…” Din swallowed. “I think… I think he called for me.”

Zakia sat on the edge of the cot and looked up. “That’s not possible, I was right here-”

“Not out loud. I mean in my mind. The Armorer called his people sorcerors- what if he can get in our heads?” Din asked. “It would explain why no one else reacted when I thought I heard your voice.”

She mulled it over, and Din sat down beside her. “I don’t doubt anything after seeing what he can do with his powers.”

The baby’s eyes had since fallen closed, and little snores came from his mouth. “He can’t be allowed to manipulate us like that.”

At a loss for words, Zakia’s only answer was a drop of her head onto Din’s pauldron. “Can we deal with this after the Krayt dragon, please? I don’t need him more cranky until after. Especially if we start punishing him for this.”

Neither person knew the technicalities of parenting a sorcerer, so they forgoed the idea of an approach right then, and instead blew out the torches that lit their tent. Din allowed Zakia to peel off his axillary pieces of armor so they didn’t jostle the baby , and carefully set him down when it came time to detach his chest piece. 

Even in this darkness their surroundings were foreign, and Din remained in his helmet and clothes. Zakia pressed into his side on the cot, and they kept the Child bundled in blankets between them. 

“Din?” 

“Yes?”

Zakia sniffed. “Are we in over our heads again?”

He huffed a laugh. “Did we ever surface?” 

“I guess not.”

With the sounds of Tusken calls and massiff panting to keep them company, the unlikely trio drifted in a light sleep, ripe with dreams of magic and chaos to come. 

  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	4. CHAPTER IV: THE UNDERSTANDING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yee haw, this one was rough to write and its like +4k long but *shrugs* I'm okay with it. Now to get onto episode two, because I desperately need to write some Frog Lady content. Enjoy this monster of a chapter that wraps up The Marshal for us, and I hope to update for you guys soon!

**MANDALORIAN SEASON 2 SPOILERS BELOW!!**

* * *

Din had a To-Do list on the Crest a light-year long. 

But contrary to popular belief, purposefully watching a krayt dragon to come out of its den was _not_ one of those things. 

He knelt between Cobb Vanth and a Tusken, binocs raised to his visor. Another Tusken, this one accompanied only by a bantha, walked slowly towards the mouth of the enormous den almost three hundred yards below. Zakia had not been wrong when she said it was the Mudhorn all over- even the basin they sat over resembled Arvala-7’s. 

“Hey.”

The Mandalorian spared a glance over his shoulder as Zakia scrambled up the rocks to sit beside Vanth. She sat the baby down at the summit, and he immediately toddled towards Din to look over the edge. He was about to scold the Child, but the Tusken beside him let out a gruff noise. 

_“It has lied here for rest and hunger since the destruction of the sarlacc.”_

To Vanth and Zakia, Din tilted his helmet. “They say it lives in there. They say it sleeps.”

The same cloth-covered warrior handed him an enhanced set of binocs, which Din held to his visor. “It lives in an abandoned sarlacc pit.”

“Lived on Tatooine my whole life.” Cobb said, “There’s no such thing as an abandoned sarlacc pit.”

From Cobb’s other side, Zakia leaned in. “There’s not, unless you kill the sarlacc.”

Din exchanged a few more words with the Tuskens. 

“They’re laying out a bantha to protect the settlement.” He explained, “They’ve studied its digestive cycle for generations. They feed the dragon to make it sleep longer. Watch- the dragon will appear.”

Zakia cringed away from the cliffside. “At least I have a warning this time.”

An eerie silence settled over the group. The Tusken who stood at the mouth of the sarlacc pit stopped a few yards away and cupped his hands around his mouthpiece. Loud calls in their language bounced off the peaks, echoing back and amplifying in double. Zakia patted the kid’s head when he whined, ears pulling back as he sensed danger. 

_‘RAARGH’_

The krayt dragon’s groans emerged from the pit before the beast, but it was enough to set the Tusken into motion, running back towards the group. Sand quivered beneath their boots as the beast approached. Zakia sat back onto her knees, wisely using her hands to plug her ears this time around. She peeked over the edge, watching the shadowy form of the dragon surface, though too far away from the bantha for comfort. It charged straight for the running Tusken, massive jaws snapping down around him. It vanished just as it had appeared, leaving the original prey wandering. 

“What the hell?” Zakia breathed, allowing the kid to hide behind her legs. 

The bantha on the canyon floor remained, wandering about aimlessly with its handler gone. Din and Cobb shared a glance, and the Mandalorian spoke. 

“They might be open to some fresh ideas.”

Regrouping to come up with a plan was their _only_ plan at the moment, so the trio of outsiders rode Tusken bantha back to their camp. The sand-dwellers had lead them eagerly to a miniature cave, model dragon and all included. Zakia stood beside Din, arms crossed over her chest. The kid clung to the back of her head, feet digging into her shoulder blades as he used her as a jungle gym. Despite his previous outburst of getting inside Din’s brain- which Zakia still couldn’t wrap her own head around- the kid had been affixed to her all morning. Though he was decidedly less fussy, and she was not complaining. 

“What’re the bones?” Vanth muttered, just loud enough for the pair of hunters to hear. 

“That’s the krayt dragon.” Din answered, watching the warriors argue amongst themselves. 

“And those little rocks?” 

“That’s us.” 

Zakia pointed to the rocks and back to them, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. “That’s, uh, that’s not quite equal to real life.”

A silver helmet turned her way, and Zakia raised her eyebrows. 

“I think it is.”

She snorted. “Are you getting enough air in there?”

The Mandalorian ignored her comment, however, Vanth was still on the same page. “It can’t be, that’s too big.”

The Tuskens all protested then, and Zakia held up her hands in surrender, taking a step into Din’s side. “Sorry, sorry.”

His hand drifted to her lower back after gesturing at the tribe, gentle pressure kneading her spine. “It’s to scale”

“I’ve only seen its head and neck. That’s a whole lot bigger’n I guessed.” Cobb said, worry bleeding into his words. “Might be time to rethink our arrangement.”

Another bout of Tusken was called towards Din, who answered shortly. The tribe member kneeling closest to Zakia leaned into the model, sprinkling more rocks around the ‘dragon’s’ head. 

“Now that’s more like it. Where are they getting the reinforcements?” Vanth’s shoulders relaxed a fraction at the prospect of more helpers. 

“I volunteered your village.” Din’s answer was firm, and Cobb’s eyes widened. 

_Explosives are common in mining work._

“It makes sense. Mos Pelgo was a mining town, you guys have to be loaded with explosives.” Zakia pointed out, “And that’s going to be the best bet with this creature.”

She paused as she thought about her statement, holding her eyes closed and mulling it over. Zakia had been confused about the model minutes beforehand, and was surprised explosives were even on her mind when Din volunteered Mos Pelgo. It made perfect sense, and the blonde was momentarily proud of her own brain for once.

Din cleared his throat and tipped his helmet, taking a couple steps of his own to have privacy with his partner. 

“How did you know explosives were the plan? That Tusken had just mentioned it and I hadn’t told you two yet.” 

The child hopped from her shoulder to Din’s, thudding against his pauldron on contact. Zakia furrowed her brow, trying to imagine seeing through his mask. 

“I just… Mos Pelgo is a mining town, and explosives are-”

“ _Common in mining work_.” Din finished her sentence, hands resting on his hips. 

Zakia gaped, eyes drifting to the wide-eyed baby who was using Din’s cape to propel down his back like it was a rock wall. She tracked back to the Mandalorian’s visor. 

“Is that what they told you? Like, in exact words?” 

Din nodded, crowding her space just a smidge to lower his voice. “We can’t let people know this is happening. I don’t want word to get out.”

“Who the kriff am I going to tell? Din, this kid just put words from _your_ head into _mine!_ No offense, but I don’t need to know everything you’re thinking.” Zakia said, shoving curls away from her eyes. 

“Just… “ He inhaled noisily, looking towards Cobb who still seemed lost in thought. “Let’s get through this, like we said last night.”

“Yeah. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing, so let’s not get too riled up.” She took a deep breath, pulling her focus together as she peered at Din. 

“You look pretty riled up.” He commented. 

“Shut up, tin can.”

Much to her chagrin, Zakia allowed Din to drive the speeder back to Mos Pelgo. They trailed behind a begrudging Cobb Vanth, who still had not taken kindly to his village being offered as reinforcements. The ride back was full of testosterone and tension, either man revving the speeder engine to race back to town. Zakia sat in front of the Mandalorian, back leaned against his chest piece and Child strapped happily to the rear in his sling. The cage of his arms was enough to allow her a short bit of relaxation, but it was far from the half-day journey from Mos Eisley the day prior. Mos Pelgo grew larger on the horizon, clay structures rising up and engulfing them as they idled down the main drag. 

“They attacked us less than a year ago. Killed half a dozen of us by the mining camp.” Cobb spoke for the first time since leaving the Tuskens, drawing the attention of both hunters. “I’d say I took down about twice as many Tuskens.”

Zakia rotated herself until both legs dangled off the homemade speeder. They had slowed to a stop outside the same cantina their mission had begun.

“This village thinks of you as a protector- there’s a lot of respect. They’ll probably listen if you give them a proper reason.”

Vanth raised his brows, stepping off his own craft. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

He led the pair back into the building, where it seemed the whole town was already seated. Zakia assumed it didn’t take much to gather in this area; there was not a whole lot else to participate in the meantime. They settled for leaning against the bar, the Child tottering after them. He found a empty flagon on the floor shortly thereafter, and was instantly occupied. 

“These two here are bounty hunters- one a Mandalorian. You know what that means?” Cobb addressed his people with little fanfare, getting straight to the issue at hand. 

“We’ve heard the stories.” The Weequay bartender piped up from his seat, the only citizen brave enough to do so. 

“Then you know how good they are at killing.” An unsurprising murmur ran across the crowd before Vanth could continue. “Now, this one’s got a problem.”

Zakia huffed- it didn’t take a genius to figure out where he was going with this chat. She reached for the flagon of spotchka on the bar behind her, pouring two glasses and promptly downing one. 

“I got a suit of salvaged armor, and the Mandalorian creed says it’s his to take.” Again, the townspeople muttered their disagreements aloud. “But, I got a problem too.” 

Cobb explained their deal with little pushback, up until the Tuskens were mentioned. This time, it was a clamoring of voice, all pitching their complaints at the same time. It continued only for a couple of moments, until Din stepped away from the bar.

“I’ve seen the size of that thing. It’ll swallow your entire town when the fancy hits it. You’re lucky Mos Pelgo isn’t a sand field already.” The Mandalorian paused, softening his tone enough it was apparent through the modulator. “I know these people. They are brutal. But so is the Dune Sea. They’ve survived for thousands of years in these sands and they know the krayt dragon better than anyone here. 

“They are Raiders, it’s true. But they also keep their word. We have struck a deal. If we are willing to leave them the carcass and its ichor, they will stand by our side in battle and vow never to raise a blaster against this town until one of you breaks the peace.”

After his piece was said, the villagers quieted. They were obviously more understanding, but Zakia was unsure if it was because Din’s mere presence was intimidating, or if they actually wanted to be a part of this deal. 

“Just think about being free from worry for once in your lives. No krayt dragon, no Sand People bothering you for as long as you live.” Zakia cut in, “It sounds like a great deal to me.”

Hesitantly and cautiously, the townspeople slowly accepted, the nods spreading across the room like a wildfire. Vanth sent a thankful look to the pair, and motioned for them to follow outside. He took his new partners to a storage building, gesturing inside. 

“Oh shit…” Zakia whispered as she looked at the racks on racks of explosive charges inside. A shiver climbed up her spine at the thought, and she took a small step back. 

“Think it’ll work?” 

“You kidding? This is… wow.” The blonde held a wiggling Child against her chest, reluctant to let him down in such a precarious place.

“Not this stuff. The people.” Vanth set his hands onto his hips and watched outside as people began to trickle out of the cantina. 

“It better. Joining forces is their only hope.” 

By the time villagers had started to gather outside and stack crates of explosives, the sound of bantha on the horizon was close. The Tuskens peaked over the horizon, causing people to gape and stop in their tracks. The baby babbled happily at the sight of newcomers, and Zakia kept him from running away with her boot. He whined at an uncalled for volume, drawing Din’s attention away from the approaching tribe. 

“Hey. You know how to behave.” His words were sharp, and the Child pouted at his surrogate father. 

Zakia was still fixed on the arrival of the Tuskens, chewing on the inside of her cheek. They stretched across the main drag, banthas arranged in a ‘V’ shape. There was little communication from either party, as everyone knew the plan. The banthas were to be loaded one by one with charges until they had enough to kill the dragon. 

Din and Zakia stepped back, allowing the people to work in quiet harmony. Cobb stood a few feet away, watching the interactions with guarded eyes. The Child was standing on a storage crate beside the Mandalorian, tapping boredly at the nearest bracer. Zakia wandered back into the building the town stored mining supplies, grabbing any additional supplies she thought would be of use. Rope, magnetic connectors, and other small things she could fit in her bag were whisked from the shelves. 

_“-Doin? That’s an explosive!”_

Zakia rushed towards the front door, spurred on by the yelling from a villager. 

“Are you tryin’ to blow the whole place up?!” 

A Tusken blocked Zakia’s exit, his back to her as he observed the scene before him. 

The sounds of their guttural language filled the air, and the hair on Zakia’s neck stood on end. The two directly involved, a dark haired man and one of the Tusken who was helping load the banthas, were inches apart. 

“What? Is that what you want?”

Vanth took it upon himself to intervene, using his position as a town leader to settle the argument. Zakia assumed it was all a misunderstanding, but hard feelings were hard to escape in a small town with nothing better to do than simmer on them. 

She was finally able to squeeze by the man before her, sidling towards Din’s relaxed form. 

Cobb returned, looking less than thrilled, hands perched back on his hips. “It’s gonna be great.”

* * *

“He says it’s sleeping. If we listen carefully, we can hear it breathing.”

Returned to the krayt dragon’s den once again, Zakia, Din, and Cobb stood a few hundred metres away while the Tuskens ensured the beast was still asleep. Zakia knelt in the sand, trying to feel the same vibrations the sand people had. When nothing came to her instantaneously, her impatience won out and she stood back at the Mandalorian’s flank as he called for the group to get to work. 

Speaking to the Tuskens was easy enough, and they gave Din strict instructions about the beast. Its belly was weak, and their best bet at a clean kill. Subsequently, the townsfolk got to work digging a shallow trench horizontally across the mouth of its den. The plan was simple: bury the explosives, and detonate when the dragon’s belly crossed over the hidden minefield. In Zakia’s mind, the hardest part would be waking and baiting the monster. It had proven it was not stupid, and she could only hope it would charge so they could be out of Tatooine with the armor as soon as possible. They had spent too much time on the desert planet in the past year, both occurrences not pleasant. 

Once the work was done, they split into a few groups. The Tuskens remained close to the entrance of the cave, giant crossbows armed to irritate the dragon and make it charge. Zakia stood adjacent to Din, headwrap on to keep sand from spraying into her hair. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, gnawing on her lip as the Tuskens began calling to the dragon. 

Its roar had become familiar after their previous encounters. The rippling of sand inside the cave helped to pinpoint the dragon’s location, and Zakia watched the Tuskens flee as it approached. They fired the crossbows- still barely a pinprick to the dragon- and listened to it snarl. The head appeared even more massive from Zakia and Din’s closer vantage point, and her eyes widened. Seemingly looking to attack the Tuskens near the weaponry, the beast surprised all parties by halting metres beforehand. It paused only briefly before sliding backwards towards the den.

“Dank farrik, it’s going back in.” Din swore, handing the spotting scope to Zakia. 

She fumbled the object to her eye, watching chaos break loose as the sand people did their best to keep the dragon out and make it charge. Blaster fire echoed around the canyon, and bodies were flying as they pulled on the ropes attached to their arrows. 

“It’s smart.” Zakia muttered, passing the scope back. 

“I’m gonna hit it.” Cobb eyed the detonator, finger hovering over the button. 

“Wait. We only have one shot, we’ve gotta get it out.” 

The townspeople advanced then, throwing everything from rocks to explosives, some armed with blasters as they attempted to get the dragon out far enough to blow it up. Luckily, the leviathan needed little more cause for a charge. After a few seconds, those massive jaws opened and it sped towards the crowd.

“Now?” Vanth squinted as he watched. 

Din pondered a moment. “Not yet. It’s gotta come out further.” 

The barrage of blaster fire continued, and the Tuskens launched more harpoons into the dragon’s skin. Zakia gripped the strap of her rifle where it was slung across her body, itching to do something other than stand back with the detonator. Her face dropped into surprise when the dragon roared once again, and flinched away from the sound bouncing on the rock walls. 

“That thing is huge.” She breathed as it reared up, opening its mouth and spewing acidic vomit across the canyon floor. 

“Almost, almost.” Din focused carefully on the beast’s body, gauging its proximity to the explosive line dug into the ground. Zakia sensed the tension as it crept into his body, and knew it was time.

“Now!”

She covered her ears, watching the mouth of the cave engulf into hot red flames. Smoke billowed up from the site of the explosion, temporarily blocking their view. The leviathan groaned, head thrashing as a haze of sand blew across the canyon. Zakia turned her face behind Din, hiding from the gritty aftershocks. 

Listening carefully, the gravelly sound of burrowing reached the trio even as they stood on the ridge. Zakia peered around the Mandalorian, just able to catch a glimpse of the beast vanishing into the sand. 

“I might be wrong, but I’m not confident that worked.” Zakia said as she stepped up in between the men. 

“Me either.” Cobb and Din replied at the same time. It was eerily silent other than the people’s murmurs, and Zakia slowly lifted the rifle from her shoulders.

Not that a sniper rifle would do anything to the beast that decided to rip from the top of the cliffs, roaring in anger and spewing acid to remind everyone it was indeed alive. The green slime ran down the rocks in sick rivulets, turning Zakia’s stomach and making her shiver. It rained down on the people in the basin like poisonous rain, dropping many in their tracks. 

“It’s pickin’ us off like womp rats.” Vanth growled, turning on his heel and lifting a blaster from his speeder. “Let’s get after it.”

Din wasted no time following the Marshal, and Zakia threw her hands in the air as they both lifted off with their respective jetpacks. She shook her head in annoyance, jogging down the hills into the crowd. She lifted her rifle just as rest of the town had, waiting for the beasts imminent return.

“Fire on it as much as you can! Do not hold back!” She called to the people. They all chanted their agreement, bracing for another confrontation as the dragon smashed back into the cliffs. She projected it would be only a few seconds until its return.

Two specks of movement, easily recognized as Din and Cobb, sped back towards the ground and landed near her, both falling into the same defensive stance. 

“Life must be nice with a jetpack.” She prodded, keeping her cheek pressed against the stock of the rifle. 

“Are we going to talk about it right now?” Din shot back.

“Do you two even like each other?” Vanth inquired. 

A rumble shook the canyon, and Zakia grit her teeth. “Not-”

She stopped as a deafening howl shook the basin, this time coming from the fine sand dunes behind them. Zakia spun, rifle still pressed to her shoulder. 

“There he is.” Din warned, though it was a bit redundant, seeing as everyone was already aware. 

The dragon made a slow loop, snapping its teeth at Tuskens as it went. Zakia looked around, eyes landing on the bantha behind them that was strapped with explosives.

“Mando- the bantha.”

He nodded, turning to Vanth. “I’ve got an idea. Get its attention.” 

The targeting mechanism on top of Vanth’s green helmet lined up in front of the visor. He bent down once it locked on, freeing the missile attached to his rising phoenix. It let loose with a whistle, colliding with the dragon’s neck. It screamed its dismay, turning towards the source. Zakia dropped her rifle down, taking a step back.

“I got its attention, now what?” 

Adrenaline burned through her veins, and Zakia wished for the first time that she had her own helmet. She could tell Din was thinking hard as he looked to Vanth. 

“You still got that detonator?” 

It exchanged hands. “Take it! What’s the plan?”

“Take care of the Child. Get her out of here.” Din spoke fast.

“What are you gonna do?” Cobb asked. 

Zakia caught up with the words too late, and she barely had a moment to protest. 

“I don’t know but wish me luck.” 

“Get- hey!” Zakia protested as Din pushed her- rougher than she appreciated- towards Vanth. 

The thinner man instinctively caught her arm, and Zakia gripped the rough metal of his bracer. Before either could step away, Din jammed the butt of his Amban into Vanth’s jetpack, sending him- and Zakia, who yelped embarrassingly loud- into the sky. The blonde’s head wrap blew down to her neck at the force of the wind, and she was thrown back to the firefight on Nevarro when Paz had carried her to safety. They flew in a sickening spiral for a few moments until Vanth was able to right them, but the damaged jetpack made their ascent jerky. 

“Hold on- landing is gonna blow.” Vanth warned, his voice strangely calm. 

“Because this flight has been so lovely.” Zakia yelled over the wind. 

“Fair enough.” Vanth’s words were drowned out as they approached the ground, turning the thrusters to full power at sporadic intervals to slow their fall. 

He kept one arm around Zakia’s shoulders, using the back plating of beskar and kevlar to take the brunt of the impact. The blonde was tossed out of his arms shortly after, tumbling head over heels across the ground. She caught herself with her hands, coughing as sand and dirt filled her mouth. Zakia groaned, landing with a huff on her stomach and painfully rolling to her back. Her eyes blearily focused on the spot where Din and the bantha had been, seeing nothing but churning sand and a whirlpool of dirt. 

Zakia was as struck as the rest of the villagers, some of which helped her to her feet and move to the Child. Her worry must have been palpable, as the baby wrinkled his nose at the sight of her and reached up to be held. She lifted him with the assistance of the woman supporting her left side. 

The little green monster fought to face outwards, and Zakia was struck suddenly with an image so powerful she had to step back. 

_Hot, wet darkness. Lit up by crackling blue energy and constant vibrations. Fear mixes with the musky smell of animal._

Zakia stumbled at the force of the image, one knee falling to the ground. The people on either side of her pulled back up, but the blonde barely noticed anything but the Child. “Are you showing me where he is?”

As if the universe heard her question rather than the Child, the ground rumbled once more, this time breaking apart with the krayt dragon’s jaws spread wide. Blue electricity crackled down the length of its neck, and a silver-clad form jetted out from between its jaws. Zakia released a breath she didn’t realize was being held in. 

Din twisted midair, looking back towards the dragon. His hand lifted, and at the same time, another explosion rocked the canyon. This one was followed by waves of aftershocks, sending a painful spray of dirt and rocks into the air. The Child hid in Zakia’s stomach, and she narrowed her eyes to watch the dragon finally collapse. Its jaws hung wide, and it splayed across the desert floor. 

Zakia couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as the townsfolk cheered. The Child kicked against her, eager to be free and celebrate. She took slow steps to make sure she wasn’t going to topple over again, but Zakia eventually made her way to where Din stood. His visor had been inclined towards Vanth, but shifted to her. 

“You’re angry.” 

Zakia shrugged. “Good guess. You’re alive though, so that’s a plus.”

Din took a step towards her, momentarily forgetting the slime that covered every inch of him and dripped down his beskar. 

“Oh, no no no, tiger. You stink.”

Bidding farewell to Cobb Vanth was not difficult. 

Neither party had any particular emotional ties, and they had not developed much more than a necessary camaraderie to kill the krayt dragon. After a brief handshake, Zakia and Din merely loaded the speeder and took off back towards Mos Pelgo to pick up her old cruiser. 

“I can’t wait to get back to Mos Eisley.” Zakia tossed the words over her shoulder as if the wind would blow them under Din’s helmet. “You need a serious bath.”

She sat in the driver’s seat of the speeder, unwilling to stand the sour smell of digestive juice rolling off of her armored counterpart. 

“Only if you’re getting in with me.” Din’s fingers ghosted across the curve of her waist, but he respectfully refrained from wrapping an arm around her and transferring the mess. 

Zakia laughed aloud, gazing into the burnt orange sunset ahead of them. The colors bathed the horizon in warm pinks and reds, and it was by far the prettiest she had ever seen Tatooine. 

It wasn’t until they had almost passed a ridge running the same way as she was driving that she noticed movement on top. Zakia’s eyes snapped back towards the rocks, hitting the brakes hard enough that Din’s helmet made an audible noise against his headrest. 

“What’s wrong, Zak?” 

Zakia’s blue eyes scanned the horizon, looking for the silhouette she had seen moments before. There was no such movement. 

“I thought I saw someone…”

Din’s helmet tilted up to the ridge, and she assumed he was scanning for life. 

“It was probably just a massif.” He told her. “I don’t see anything.”

The blonde bit the inside of her cheek. Din was probably right, but she could not shake the feeling that someone had been watching. The sniper in her was screaming, but she only nodded in agreement. 

“You’re right. Sorry.”

Din shook his head. “It’s fine. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. Adrenaline’s just wearing off.” She murmured, powering up the speeder. 

Zakia pointed it back in the direction of Mos Pelgo, pressing down on the accelerator. The craft obeyed seamlessly, rocketing forward until the ridge faded into nothing more than a speck in the distance. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. CHAPTER V: THE TAXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys-   
> This chapter turned into more of a filler than I wanted, but I'm working on getting there. I always have a harder time following the episodes, but I'm excited for the upcoming scenes from season 2. I have plans on plans for episode 3, so buckle in! I'm working on a better update schedule, but I am having some tough personal issues and stuff, so bear with me.   
> All of your comments/kudos/follows/favorites/subs keep me going, and I love you all <3

“How much further?”

Zakia blinked sleepily from the passenger seat of her old cruiser. Desert raced by as Din sped across Tatooine, smelling significantly better after rinsing off in Mos Pelgo. 

“Maybe twenty minutes?” Din surmised, looking ahead at the barely-visible structures making up Mos Eisley in the distance. 

The Child squealed from his place on Din’s thigh and pounded his fists against the dome-shaped windscreen. It only took a moment to realize Zakia was awake, and he jumped across the space separating them. 

“Oof.” Zakia grunted as the kid pushed the air from her lungs upon landing. “Guess I can stay awake now.”

Din tipped his head in agreement. “It should be easy to-”

_ WHOOSH _

For a moment, everything dropped into slow motion. Zakia saw the craft moving skyward out the windscreen, but didn’t understand how fast until it tipped sideways. She remembered talking to Peli about the stabilizers needing work, and knew just how bad when they started cartwheeling and sand was tearing apart her eyes. 

Zakia felt herself tumble free of the craft early on, and laid supine in the sand for a moment before attempting to stand. Her leg that had been broken by the Wookiee so many years ago throbbed in pain, and her ribs protested each breath. She hauled herself into a sitting position, blearily trying to make something of her surroundings. 

_ Tatooine. Right. _

A projectile sparking near her feet sobered the blonde up just enough to jump up in spite of her pain. Zakia stood unevenly, drawing her blaster and pointing it towards the source as her brain caught up. Three figures were rapidly approaching, and muttering amongst themselves.

“Get the child!”

Zakia ducked another blaster bolt, jerking back to reality at the shout. She dodged behind a set of rock formations and drew both of her knives, gripping them at the handle and waiting. Her leg, head, and chest throbbed as she remained frozen, but she forced herself to focus on the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“Come out, come out wherever you are…” The man taunted. His voice came from the other side of the rocks. 

Zakia took a moment to look at the rock formation behind her, its layered texture allowing for easy footholds. It was only a metre or two tall, so she scaled it and glanced at the figue below. He was peaking to the right as if he was coming around the stone. 

“Right here.” She dropped from the top with knives pointed down, slicing both sides of the man’s scalp. Her legs landed on his shoulders, and Zakia used her momentum to pull him down to the ground. The knives were thrust away. 

Naturally, his strength outmatched hers and Zakia wrestled with him in the sand for a weakness. The man’s hands wrapped around her throat just as Zakia’s crept to her hip. She bucked and thrashed underneath him as his grip tightened, and was eventually able to grip her blaster. He was too occupied with her strangling that the blaster being drawn and primed went unnoticed until the bolt was in his stomach. 

The greasy man staggered away, stained goggles fogging up with his heavy breathing. Zakia crab walked across the sand until she felt far enough away, gasping for oxygen and heaving against the ground. The noise of commotion pulled her to her feet, and Zakia limped crawled towards the sound. 

Twenty yards away, she found Din facing off with what looked to be a maskless Jawa.

A maskless Jawa that had a hold of the kid. 

The strange creature had the wiggling baby in one hand, the other gripping a knife. The blade quivered near the green child’s throat as he bickered with the Mandalorian. Zakia stood stock-still behind the Jawa, waiting for the precise moment to strike. A blaster shot would be too risky from her angle. A knife was the best option, she just had to be sure the Child was out of harm’s way.

“Wait! Don’t hurt the Child.” Din kept the creature’s attention, raising his hands into a placating gesture of surrender. “If you put one mark on him there is no place you will be able to hide from me. We can strike a bargain. There’s a lot of value in this wreckage. Take your pick.” 

The Jawa followed Din’s gaze to their scattered belongings, then slowly moved back to him. Being a Jawa of course, it was the shiniest object of the bunch that caught his eye. He pointed at Din with the knife, babbling incoherently. Zakia crept forward once the knife was no longer in danger of cutting the Child, keeping low and quiet. 

The Mandalorian moved as slow as he could without raising suspicion, and bought his partner enough time to charge their attacker. Zakia lunged forward with her knife, wrapping one arm around the Jawa’s throat and yanking back. Din sprung into action at the same time, kicking the knife away and scooping up the kid. The blonde wasted no time forcing her knife through the brown robes covering the Jawa’s neck , letting its miniature body drop to the sand with a dull thud. 

“It’s okay. Shh, shhh.” Din crooned. The baby’s cries quieted as he rocked him back and forth. 

“Is he alright?” Zakia rasped and gathered her scattered weapons. 

“Yeah. you?” 

Aside from her bruised body, she felt fine and informed him so. Zakia began the monotonous task of collecting their scattered things, and saying goodbye to her recently-repaired cruiser. The bandits had blown them from their course with a mine in the ground, a gaping hole in the floor of her cruiser as proof. She could only grumble her grievances, as it was a long time since it had been a part of her life (and a stupid one, at that). 

Not to mention it was originally purchased with the reward money she received for killing Imps that were now looking for her. According to Greef Karga, at least.

Soft leather touched her chin, and Zakia let Din tilt her face towards him. The Mandalorian inspected her injuries, trailing a finger down her bruised neck. She twined her fingers with his, squeezing gently. 

“Are you ready to head back?” 

Zakia followed his gaze to Mos Eisley on the horizon. It was going to be a long,  _ hot  _ walk back to Peli’s hangar. 

“I guess.” She took the moment of closeness to wrap her fingers around the top of his cuirass. “You’re alright under all of that?”

Din chuckled. “Better than you look.”

“How flattering,” Zakia cocked her head to the side in a failed attempt to catch her reflection in Din’s helmet. “That bad, huh?”

* * *

Trekking back to Mos Eisley was about how Zakia imagined it- hot, sticky, and painful.

She was sure her scalp was sunburned, and her arms definitely were. They glowed a sick shade of pink as the sun faded and they entered the town. Din had the important parts of their wreckage dangling from a long metal rod over his shoulders, and Zakia was backpacking the armor Vanth had relinquished. 

It really made her question how the hell the Mandalorian wore it all day everyday and did not suffer from crippling back problems.

“I need to go take care of my arms.” Zakia winced as the flesh pulled. “I’ll meet you in the hangar, yeah?”

Din bumped her hip with his outside the cantina- his own small splash of affection. “Go ahead. I’ll get some drinks here to bring back.”

Zakia nodded her thanks and scooped the Child from the satchel on Din’s hip. The sling she had been wearing for most of their adventure had been shredded in the crash, going from invaluable to unuseable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, the kid clambered onto Zakia’s shoulder with little fuss, pinching his claws together in a childish goodbye to Din. 

The Mandalorian snorted and nudged his way into the cantina. 

It was a short walk to the hangar, and Zakia could have collapsed with exhaustion upon entering. The ramp into the Crest was still lowered, but Peli was nowhere in sight. Debating the likelihood of someone else coming in, she decided it was negligible enough to let the kid wander. 

“Stay close.” She said firmly. Normally she would add that to the list of statements he didn’t understand, but recent events had her thinking otherwise. 

The kid squealed happily at his freedom, clumsily pursuing Zakia up the jetway into the Crest. He swatted at bugs as they went, eventually choosing a seat near one of the ramp indicator lights to pick off unsuspecting moths. 

“Very smart choice.” Zakia advised. 

She dumped the Mandalorian armor on the floor of the ship, unceremonious sounds of metal clanging on the floor. There was a strange desire to look it over and ascertain something about the wearer, but Zakia wanted nothing more than cold water and salve on her abused skin. 

The ‘fresher was newly cleaned, sparkling from floor to top. Zakia admired it for a moment, thanking the Maker that Din had- slightly- changed his tune about droids. There was no way in hell that Peli Motto was cleaning their ship like that. 

“Shit…” Zakia murmured to herself as she turned on the light, catching a glimpse of herself in the small mirror. 

Normally tight curls were adhered to her neck with sweat, and frizzy from the dry air. Her face was red and hot to the touch, the scar stretching across it even more sensitive than normal while bruises looked like rings around her neck. Unsurprisingly, her arms were equally as bad, and blisters had already started on her upper arms. The creamy white of her wrap-type top was stained and ripped, her midriff exposed and singed the same as her face. 

“Ah-ah-ah!” She bit her lip to refrain from crying out while trying to undo her top. 

_ Tap tap tap. _

The noise on the ‘fresher door was followed by a soft coo, and Zakia nudged it open with her foot. A tiny green baby stared up at her, concern in his ridiculously large eyes. 

“I’m alright buddy, just sore.” She managed, sitting on the edge of the slanted toilet that made her wish she had different anatomy. 

The kid pattered over to her, reaching his arms up to be held. 

“Oh no, I can’t right now.”

An exaggerated shrug from the kid led to him offering her the detached wing of a moth. Zakia politely declined, instead reaching into the shower cubicle and giving the handle a whack to turn on the water. Most likely expecting an ambush that meant a bath- the Mandalorian’s normal method of cleansing his charge- the kid took off out of the ‘fresher after more bugs. 

Zakia stripped quickly, forcing herself under the water. It stung against her skin, and if she had been in the sun any longer she’d expect it to start steaming on contact. After a few moments of tense muscles she began to relax, letting the water wash away her sweat. She even took the chance to scrub the meager combination shampoo and conditioner through her hair, soaping off the grease and sand from Tatooine’s surface. 

She waited for the water meter to blink at her, but it remained steady and Zakia determined Peli must have them hooked up to some sort of water source. Taking advantage of the rare occurrence, she washed her face and each part of her body until noise from outside destroyed the solitude she discovered. 

A familiar hand wrapped itself around the shower curtain, and Zakia only turned her head to greet Din. Dressed down to just his trousers and looking particularly exhausted, he lifted the helmet from his head. 

“Hey.” She said, reaching a hand to switch off the water. 

Din caught her wrist before she could. “Sorry we don’t have more time.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine- Motto has the kid.” Din stepped forward and crammed himself into the shower stall with her after kicking his trousers off. “She introduced me to someone who says they know where Mandalorians are. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Zakia, crowded between his chest and the wall, looked up to his bare face. His hair was plastered to his head, and he was in desperate need of a shave. The scar over the bridge of his nose from their confrontation on Nevarro was still visible, and she reached a finger up to run over it.

“Good. We can get off this hellhole then.” Zakia let her hand cup the side of his face, and the Mandalorian leaned into it. 

“That we can.” Din took that moment to appreciate her body in spite of its battered state. His eyes swept up and down.

Zakia watched this closely, letting her hand slide down his face to rest on his shoulder. “My eyes are up here.”

Din’s hands only danced down her sides, pulling her so her breasts were flush against his chest. “I don’t have enough time to do all the things I’d like.” 

She pushed onto her tiptoes to press their lips together, letting her fingers tangle in his hair. “Later.”

“Promise?” His baritone was gritty with desire, and the cold water was doing nothing to deter him. 

“Shave your face and we might have a deal.” Zakia bargained, edging towards the door. 

Din roughed soap through his hair and followed suit, exiting the stall and flicking the water off as Zakia used the sink for balance. He took her elbow instead, feeling the taut skin that had been burned. 

“I look like a Devoronian.” She croaked, stiffly wrapping a towel around herself. 

The ‘fresher reeked like sweat and grime, courtesy of their clothes, and she hobbled out into the hull of the ship. Din remained a moment, toweling the excess water from his hair and wiping out the inside of his helmet before sealing himself back inside. Zakia sat on a crate near their sleeping quarters, pulling on a sleek pair of black pants and boots overtop. She selected a white sleeveless top and pulled it on, leaving her arms exposed. 

A tin of bacta-infused salve was pressed into her hand, and by the time she was done applying it, Din was already dressed. He fastened the bandolier around his chest and helped wrap her arms, letting the bacta work faster. 

“Ah, that’s good stuff.” Zakia moaned as she rubbed the salve onto the bruises decorating her neck. 

When she looked up, Din’s visor was fixed in her direction. “Zakia.”

“Yes, my Dear?”’

The Mandalorian pulled her from the crate against his beskar. 

“If you keep making sounds like that, we’re not going anywhere.”

The cold metal was heaven against her burns, and Zakia rested her head on his chest. “I wouldn’t complain.”

_ “Hey lovebirds! Get out here!” _

Din sighed. “Come on.”

Zakia chuckled at Peli’s demanding nature, but still could not ignore the heat in her belly. “Tonight.”

A sideways glance landed on her as the ramp lowered, and the pair joined Motto a few feet from where the block of krayt dragon meat was roasting. The kid watched it spin on the makeshift rotisserie while a droid watched carefully.

“Take care of business there?” Peli waggled a finger between the two of them, and Zakia raised a brow. 

“I can barely move, let alone-”

Din cleared his throat, setting his hand on his belt buckle. 

“He’s right. I don’t wanna know how-” Peli motioned to his armor. “-all that works.”

Zakia couldn’t help but laugh, wincing at the pain in her throat. Maker, the bacta could not work fast enough. 

“So?” Din prompted, and Motto raised her hands in surrender. 

“All right, here’s the deal. A Mandalorian covert is close. It’s in this sector, one system trailing.” She explained, watching a droid approach with a plate of meat. 

“Are they the ones that left Nevarro?” Din inquired. 

“Don’t know. All I know is that the contact will lead you to them.” 

Zakia shifted her boots on the dusty ground. “That sounds… expensive.”

“Well that’s the great news,” The mechanic said, “It’s free. Aside from a finder’s fee, of course.”

Din sensed a ‘but’ coming, though Peli was hesitant to get there. “What’s the not-great news?”

“Nothing. It’s all great.”

“Okay.” 

“However.”

Zakia sucked in a breath, bracing herself for Peli’s words and Din’s imminent irritation. His armor clanked as he rotated on one foot to face Motto.

“There is one small skank in the scud pie.” 

“And, uh,” Zakia peeked around Din’s side, one hand braced on his belt, “What might that be?”

“The contact wants passage to the system.” 

Well, that was far from the sinister news Zakia was expecting. Not that she was complaining. 

“Do you vouch for them?” Din pressed, tone growing more impatient by the second. 

“On my life.” Peli promised.

“Fine.”

“And-” 

This time Din swung towards the mechanic, and Zakia grabbed his cloak in warning. She wasn’t concerned about Peli’s safety, but the Mandalorian looked inches away from purposefully slamming his helmet into the wall. Thankfully he only tilted it accusingly.

“No hyperdrive.”

Zakia’s jaw dropped at that proclamation, and she stepped around her partner. “Sub-light? Peli, that’s too dangerous for us and you know it.”

“It’s one sector over.” Motto shot back. “And these are mitigating circumstances.” 

Din cut in, hand lifting to rest on Zakia’s back. It was becoming a more and more familiar public gesture, one that the Mandalorian practiced frequently when he was growing upset. 

“What do you mean, _ mitigating? _ ” 

Just as he hissed through the vocoder, Zakia noticed movement at the mouth of the hangar. She watched the figure grow closer, and smiled in greeting. 

The contact was female, though it would not be apparent unless one paid attention to her dress. Her head was that of a frog, with wide blinking eyes and orange-pink skin. Her webbed hands held onto straps over her shoulders that connected to a glowing canister on her back. She chirped nervously, shifting back and forth on her feet. 

Din leaned close to Peli, lowering his voice. “We are not a taxi service.”

“I know, I know, I hear you. But I can vouch for her.” Motto tried to reassure Din. 

Zakia kept her eyes on their company, who still moved only around the edges of the hangar, buzzing with nervous energy. She seemed to lock onto Motto, and waddled over a few moments later. Din’s hand tensed on Zakia’s back, and she cast a sideways glance towards his visor. 

The Frog Lady croaked a few throaty sounds to Peli, who nodded in understanding.

“What’s she carrying?” Zakia asked, motioning to the glowing canister on the woman’s back. 

It was a bright teal, with orange globes bouncing through the liquid inside. Sort of entrancing to watch, Zakia felt relaxed in its presence.

Peli relayed her question with a quick inhale broken apart by the same gritty syllables. 

“It’s her spawn. She needs her eggs fertilized by the equinox or her line will end.” Motto continued, “If you jump into hyperspace, they’ll die. She said her husband has settled on the estuary moon of Trask in the system of the gas giant Kol Iben.”

“She said all that?” Din’s voice was skeptical, but Peli was already on it. 

“I paraphrased.”

He sighed. “Is she  _ sure  _ there are Mandalorians there?” 

More foreign language that hurt Zakia’s throat just thinking of it.

“She said her husband has seen them.”

Zakia wandered away from the conversation, enticed by the smell of meat cooking. She swiped a chunk from the plate a droid was then filling, lifting the Child to let him nibble on a piece as well. He accepted it happily, but his eyes were absolutely glued to the Frog Lady’s canister, 

The blonde wrinkled her nose at the idea of the eggs, fully able to admit that it was now going to creep her out instead of relax her. 

“Oh no, buddy. You don’t want any of that.”

  
  
  
  



	6. CHAPTER VI: THE PAST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y’all, sorry for the wait. College is hard, and I have a bunch of crazy stuff going on at home. Add work and a pandemic in the mix, and I feel insane. I am trying to write more, but the exhaustion is real so be kind :)
> 
> I know I said I was going to adhere to canon as much as possible, but I kind of diverged a little lot here. But anywho, I hope you guys enjoy, I’m trying my best to get content out to you <3

Din warned the Frog Lady of possible danger as he turned the Crest’s autopilot on and routed the emergency signals to the hull’s alarm system. 

A nap was truly in order. 

Zakia was in the seat to his left, feet tucked underneath her as she tapped on the holopad. Her bruises were on full display, and her arms unwrapped to allow air to reach the sunburned skin. Their attackers on Tatooine had done a number on her neck, the purple contusions appearing worse than it probably was. She had promptly taken analgesics upon their takeoff, and seemed herself aside from the raspy edge to her voice. 

Layered beneath the newfound anxiety and fear that rushed through his veins every minute as of late, Din knew she was alright. Zakia was breathing and very much alive, relaxing behind him. However, the aforementioned anxiety was heightened more than ever before. Where he used to be able to reassure himself that she could handle herself without him as backup, he now hesitated. 

It wasn’t that they had not relished in each other’s company- they truly did, both in the sense of professional and private lives. Nevertheless, they used to be able to maintain a professional distance while working and Din could confidently split up without a constant nagging. It was since Nevarro that said confidence had wavered and broke like glass. Din hovered and he knew it, fighting with his mind at all hours of the day. He stood closer, keeping an eye on both her and the Child, or resting a hand on her back when he grew impatient and irritable. 

Reassured by the fact that Zakia appreciated his gestures, he tried not to reprimand himself too much. Instead of leaning away or glaring as she would have a year ago, Zakia simply glanced in his direction, not needing words to understand his motives. Din may have felt more vulnerable since the ambush and his near-death experience, but he kept it under wraps rather well and stayed focused on the job. 

“Hey.”

The Mandalorian, lost so deep in his own thoughts, had failed to detect Zakia’s approach. She set a hand on his shoulder and leaned against him just slightly. 

“Hey. I’m gonna hit the rack.” He replied, double checking the nav’s course. 

Zakia peeked at the computer. “I’m not really tired, I’ll probably stay up here so you can actually sleep. Try and communicate with our guest.”

There it was again. That  _ damn  _ nagging feeling everytime they split up. 

Din swallowed the worry. “Alright.”

He unlocked the seat from its position, pressing his helmet to Zakia’s temple as he stood. She pressed a swift kiss to the same side, hidden enough from the Frog Lady’s view that he was comfortable allowing it. 

“If anything happens-”

Zakia slid into the pilot’s seat and gave him a playful shove. “I’ll take care of it. Go get some sleep.”

Din replied only with a hand on her shoulder, fingers squeezing gently before he retreated to the hull. The kid was already in bed as of an hour ago, and he kept as quiet as possible to avoid disturbing him. He pressed the door release for the bunk, anticipating a green face to stare back at him, but only met with empty space. 

‘ _ Sslurp’ _

“Kid?” Din spun on his heel. 

His stomach leapt into his throat at the sight of the foundling pawing around in the Frog Lady’s canister. The baby was already slurping an egg into his mouth as he rushed over. 

“No, no, no!” Din snatched the kid from his spot on the floor. “That is  _ not _ food. Don’t do that again.”

Only answering him with a belch, the Child cooed at his helmet and slathered his gloves in blue liquid from the canister. Din winced, but didn’t have the energy to further reprimand the kid. 

“Nap time.”

Surprisingly, sleep came swift and heavy, blanketing the Mandalorian in a haze of warmth. He slept soundly, the even sounds of the baby’s snores keeping his brain mute just below the surface. It was odd to be sleeping alone, but the ability to stretch out was appreciated. 

Din remained there, drifting in the warm darkness for what seemed like only a few minutes, when alarms woke him. 

“Shit.” He muttered. 

He tapped at his vambrace controls until the hatch opened, and forced himself out of the warmth with a grunt. Zakia’s voice was audible as he climbed the ladder, and it spurred him forward. 

“Ok, but is there a problem?”

Her tone was irritable. 

Din entered the cockpit, finding Zakia cross-legged in the pilot’s chair. The holopad was on the ground beside her, obviously discarded in a hurry. He froze upon looking out the windscreen. 

Two New Republic X-wing fighters, one on either side of the ship, cruised idly beside them 

_ “We noticed your transponder is not emitting.”  _ The voice crackled through the Crest’s old speakers. 

Zakia glanced at Din, searching for help. “This ship is pre-Empire. It’s never been required to have a beacon.” 

_ “That was before. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon.”  _

Din stepped forward, silently requesting his seat back. Zakia stood, watching out the windscreen at the two fighter crafts. 

“Thank you for letting us know. I’ll get right on it.” Din pressed on the com while his message went out, staring straight forward into the empty black void around them. 

_ “Not a problem. Safe travels.”  _

Drawing on sentiments he’d gathered from Republic supporters before, he managed a farewell: “May the Force be with you.”

Zakia’s finger’s drummed the back of the pilot’s seat. 

_ “And also with you.”  _

Silence followed for a moment, and Zakia sighed. 

“That was-”

_ “Just one more thing.” _

Din tensed, and whispered under his breath to Zakia. “Strap in.” 

Back to the X-wings, he spoke. “Yes?”

_ “I’m gonna need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts.”  _

While Din knew they would probably nag him further without sending it, he was hesitant to send it. His ship had linked with the Republic prison ship when they worked with Ran’s gang, and the possibility his tabs were flagged was very high. 

“I’ll let you know if I see any.” He carefully avoided the subject of the ping, instead tossing a glance at Zakia to make sure she was in the seat. 

Her blue eyes were wide, fixed on the fighter craft closest to her. 

_ “I’m still gonna need you to send us that ping.” _

“Din, the-”

He flattened his hand into a ‘stop’ position, keeping it low so the other pilots couldn't see him. “I’m not sure I have that hardware online.”

_ “We can wait.” _

Acting on his first instinct, he claimed it ineffective without flipping the beacon switch that had  _ just  _ been repaired a few weeks back. 

_ “That’s too bad. If we can’t confirm you’re not Imperial, you’re gonna have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi. They’ll run your tabs.” _

Now that, they really couldn’t afford. The last thing they needed was  __ to have more attention on them. The New Republic may be just barely scraping their influence into the Outer Rim, but any pressure on them an the kid was undesirable. 

“Oh, wait.” Din tried his best to make extra clanging noises, dropping switch covers and banging anything around. “There it is. Transmitting now.”

The Frog Lady chose that moment to wake up, gasping in surprise at the noise and flailing about in her chair. Zakia hissed at her to be quiet, most likely thinking the same as Din. He wasn’t concerned about Zakia’s history, but he didn’t know Frog Lady at all, and couldn’t chance her involvement. 

_ “What’s that?” _

Din sputtered out an excuse that was not much more than bantha shit, and faced forward again. It was one of the many moments he was thankful the helmet stayed on. 

_ “Carson? Can you switch over to channel two?”  _

A shiver shot down Din’s spine.

The communicator went quiet. 

“Mando…” Zakia’s voice was warning, and Din dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“It’s-”

The words fell short as movement caught his eye. The Mandalorian took a deep breath as the X-wings opened into their fighting position, the infamous ‘X’ shape taking form. Din gripped the steering controls, tapping the ship out of autopilot. 

The comm crackled to life once again.  _ “Was your craft in the proximity of New Republic Correctional Transport, Bothan-Five _ ?” 

Din glanced at Zakia, who abruptly undid her seatbelt and hustled to his chair. He bit back the urge to chastise her, and instead let her press on the comm.

“We were… But hear me out.” Zakia said, “We had no other choice. I’m wanted by the Imperial remnants, they threatened to expose me.”

_ “Can you identify yourself?”  _

Din stared at his partner, waiting for an answer of some sort. Her glacial eyes stopped on him before moving back towards the X-wings. She inhaled deeply, and spoke low. 

“My name is Zakia Dragant. I-I’m from the planet Codia in Mid-Rim.” Her words were shaky and almost whispered, and Din ground his teeth. 

In spite of their relationship’s length, it was only the second time he had heard Zakia speak her surname aloud. She whispered it to him one night after they had been together, and told him of the mountainous planet that had once been a home to her. The people who had taught her to shoot and hunt in the mountains, and to fend for herself. 

_ “Can you tell me why Imperials would be looking for you?”  _ The X-wing pilot sounded different then, and Din’s fingers twitched on the controls.

“I was unknowingly hired to perform a political assasination while on Coruscant. I assassinated six Imperial warlords that were hiding in the forests of another planet.” Zakia swallowed. “I didn’t know what it was for at the time, but I know now they’re after me.”

The radio was silent for a moment. 

_ “You have been off Republic radar for a long time, Miss Dragant.”  _

Zakia rubbed a hand down her face. “I’ve had a lot going on. I’m no longer a mercenary… I work with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild.” 

_ “The owner of the Razor Crest has an arrest warrant for the abduction of prisoner X-six-nine-eleven.”  _

“That was out of-” 

_ “However, onboard security records show that he aided in the apprehension of three priority culprits from the Wanted Register. Security records also show that both put your lives in harm’s way to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps.”  _ The story seemed like so long ago despite it only being a few months. 

Din met Zakia’s gaze, and she leaned towards the communicator again. “Yes, we did.”

_ “I hope you know that the Mandalorian should be under arrest.”  _ He started.  _ “But, these are trying times, and given your record of assisting the New Republic, we think it fair to allow you passage.” _

Zakia hung her head in relief. “Thank you.”

_ “Get the transponder fixed, and I’ll be happy.”  _ He gave a half-ass salute that Zakia could barely see.  _ “May the Force be with you.” _

“And also with you.” Zakia returned graciously, watching the X-wings peel off in either direction. She switched the communicator off and leaned against Din’s side. 

“That was close.”

Din stared at her. “You really put yourself out there.” 

“You heard him- these are trying times. We need to find Mandalorians as soon as possible, and we would never have outrun them.” Zakia chewed on her cheek, thinking about the information she had shared. 

“You never mention your home.” Din murmured, rechecking their course. He avoided looking directly at her, not wanting to pressure her to speak if she wasn’t up to it.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been there.”

*

_ “Great shot, Zakia! You’re a natural.”  _

_ Zakia looked up from the scope at her Keshian companion. His eyes were large and orange tinted, able to see her target from hundreds of yards away.  _

_ “Thanks, Gino. I’ve been practicing.” She slung the rifle onto her shoulder. “Mother is afraid of war spats making their way here, so she is happy you’re teaching me.” _

_ Gino dipped his head. “The war is stretching further. It’s affected the trade routes in major ways.” _

_ She did her best to remain ignorant to the fact that Gino was not as innocent as his round eyes portrayed. He worked for the Hutts, and only returned to Codia once in a while to prevent his family from being used as leverage.  _

_ “I hope it stays far away.” She gazed over the valley where most of the population resided, almost two thousand meters below. The mountaintop they stood on was made of rock and coated in a dusting of snow. Her target had been at the beginning of the tree cover, almost eight hundred metres down the slope.  _

_ “You’d make a great asset to us, Zakia. We need motivated people.”  _

_ She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I think I’d be better suited for other things, Gino.” _

_ “You trying to say you don’t approve of my career, blondie?” _

_ Zakia shrugged. “I just don’t want to be running my whole life.” _

_ * _

In hindsight, the sentiment was ironic, but Zakia knew there was no way she could have forecasted what the future held. When she attempted her first Guild job, she never expected to be traveling the galaxy with a Mandalorian. 

She was a hundred percent sure he also had not anticipated her joining him, but it was useless to fret over could haves and would haves. 

“How long until we reach Trask?”

Din scanned the nav. “At least thirteen hours at this speed.” 

“Alright. I’m going to go check on the baby. Need anything, just holler.”

Zakia fled the flight deck, ducking into the hull to find something that would fill thirteen hours of spare time. 

* * *

When Din informed her that Trask was visible on the horizon, Zakia had achieved far more than she had anticipated. All of their dirty clothes from Tatooine had been scrubbed and hung on a grapple line from Din’s old vambrace. Her haphazard clothesline was attached to either side of the hull by stray bolts that stuck out of the wall. It was the perfect spot that Zakia could point the heat ducts at, speeding up the process significantly. 

The Mandalorian dropped down to her level a few minutes after his announcement. His entrance was accompanied by the Child’s happy giggles, apparently having enjoyed the jump from cockpit to below deck. 

“Looks good down here.” Din commented, surveying the clean cargo area. There was now room to actually sit, and the fresher even sparkled. 

“Thanks. I was cleaning to pass the time.” Zakia said. “Our clothes smelled…  _ bad.” _

“Krayt dragons will do that to you.” Din said as he approached. 

Zakia was settled at the foot of the arms locker, disassembling and cleaning each blaster in the collection. She stood even with the Mandalorian, accepting the hand he held to her. 

“How’s the.... Frog?” Zakia whispered. 

Din chuckled. “Quiet, more or less. Sounds like she’s trying to ask questions, but I don’t speak whatever language that is. Tried Huttese too, but nothing is getting through.”

“At least she’s friendly. Her eggs have been keeping me company.” Zakia nodded to the glowing canister that sat against the wall. 

The baby, having been released from Din’s arms, patted at the glass and clicked his claws. 

“Aw, he likes it too.” Zakia gushed, pointing to the Child with one hand and the other smacking Din’s cuirass. The Mandalorian glanced at her hands before raising a finger in the kid’s direction. 

“Oh no. He wants a snack.” 

“A snack- what?” She hurried over the baby and lifted him away from the spawn. 

“Caught him inside earlier. You know how he is.” Din’s vague acknowledgement of earlier events made Zakia’s eyes pop. 

She lowered her voice to a hiss, leaning into the Mandalorian’s space. “He ate  _ her spawn?” _

“It sounds worse when you put it like that.” Din groaned, rubbing his helmet as if it would help the pressure building in his temples. “Let’s just focus on the important things. Like Trask being only a few clicks out.”

Zakia’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Good. Hopefully we’re finished with the Republic as well.”

She moved to walk around him, but Din caught the gauzy fabric of her sleepshirt between his fingers. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. It was just weird talking about home, no matter how brief it was.” Zakia wrung her fingers together, tipping her shoulder against Din’s chestpiece. 

“You saved us from a lot of trouble, Zak.  _ Ori kotep.” _ The Mando’a words were lost on her, and she lifted her eyes to meet a deep black visor. 

“Are you calling me names?” She teased, but smiled softly all the while. “Even so, I love hearing your language.”

Din felt his body heat up at her words. His partner, his…  _ riduur _ . She liked it when he spoke his language, even though the words were lost on her. Her blue eyes were beacons, pulling him closer as she waited for a translation. Din, however, was too caught up to remember. 

“Anyone home?”

“Sorry.  _ Very brave,  _ I said. It was very brave of you.” Din brushed curls away from her face, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability as she leaned into him. Her hair smelled of the last drops of the fruity soap he had swiped from Sorgan; her body a soft curve which created a sharp contrast against his angled and unforgiving steel body. 

“Thank you. How do I-”

_ “Vor entye.”  _ The words rolled off of Din’s tongue as if he was still a Child, thanking his  _ buir _ for dinner in the covert. It was a fuzzy memory that he had nigh forgot, refreshed only by the impromptu Mando’a lesson. 

Zakia repeated a butchered version, and Din promised to work on it with her if they had time to themselves in between hunting for Mandalorians and protecting their Child. Together, they ascended into the cockpit, memories of days pasts echoing in their minds. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori kotep- "very brave"  
> riduur- "partner", "spouse"  
> Vor entye- "Thank you"


	7. CHAPTER VII: THE SPLIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, here I am with another chapter!  
> Hopefully this gives you guys some more plot to chew on, and a bit more fun storyline than following canon directly. As I said in the last chapter, I diverged a bit. Turns out, I’m going to keep doing that to grow both my OC and the story universe a little bit. We’re still moving on canonical time, but I’m changing up a few things so you guys aren’t just re-reading the show all the time. 
> 
> PS: I’m in love with Din Djarin even more after Chapter 15. If you’ve watched, you know why. If not, why are you here and not watching it ASAP? 
> 
> Again, your comments/kudos/bookmarks/favorites/subs/follows keep me going! I love hearing your guys’ thoughts on this story and the show, so keep it coming!  
> -Moonlitdesertdreams

The term ‘Estuary’ denoted water, but after their scare during transit neither hunter onboard thought on the implications. Trask was almost entirely churning seas and man-made harbors. The broke through thick cloud cover after entering the atmosphere, resulting in tiny beads of moisture accumulating on the windscreen. 

Zakia wrinkled her nose at the hazy gray landscape, but Frog Lady babbled excitedly as they circled a landing pad. In the hull, she opted for form-fitting and water-repellent pants, with a gray high-neck raincoat that reached her knees to ward off unwanted moisture. Her hair was braided into two long sections that joined at the base of her skull, but pieces escaped around her face almost immediately. 

Upon disembarking the Razor Crest, the smell of fish and harbor craft wafted into their noses. Their passenger seemed to grow more excited as each moment passed; Din and Zakia both kept eyes out for anyone who seemed to recognize them. Mon Calamari made up the majority of the population, and a bug-eyed one jogged up to them once they hit solid ground. 

“Docking and repair fees?” He inquired, motioning to the Crest. 

Zakia held out a few credit chips that had tumbled out of Din’s laundry earlier. “Fuel it up?”

The amphibian dipped his bulbous head. “Much thanks. I’ll fuel it up!”

“Great.” Din’s flat tone popped through his modulator, and he nudged Zakia to keep up with Frog Lady. The blonde obliged, padding after their new friend. 

“This planet sucks.” Zakia told Din as they trod through puddles and slippery fish slime. 

“Indeed.” 

The baby wiggled happily in his floating pod, watching the scenery with glossy eyes. His favorite food was a good frozen frog, and this planet was ripe for the picking. Zakia was horrified to know of his actions involving the egg canister, and prayed Frog Lady did not notice when her and her husband did…  _ whatever  _ they had to do with the eggs. 

Fishing nets and crab cages filled every inch of free space on the large dock. Zakia sidestepped over rope and buoys, pursuing Frog Lady to assure her safe arrival and to meet the husband who claimed to see Mandalorians. Din was quiet and tense, helmet moving back and forth on a swivel. Curious eyes raked across the beskar, from his unmatching cuisses to the signet on his shoulder. It was not an uncommon occurrence for people to stare at the precious metal, but with recent events the Mandalorian was on edge wherever they journeyed. 

It was after a final shout in her strange guttural language that Frog Lady was graced with a response. This was a deeper croak than her own, one that indicated a male was nearby. Her head snapped in the direction of the call, and was soon running into the arms of another creature the same as her. Zakia let a smile tug her lips upwards, approaching the reunion as Din trailed a mere foot behind her. The Child whined sadly at the sight of the canister, and Zakia glanced down at him. 

“I know you’re hungry. We’ll get you something to eat.” Din spoke to the kid and brushed a quick finger over Zakia’s waistline to make sure she heard. 

They moved from the Child’s needs back to the Frog family’s; the husband spoke hushed croaks and gripped both hunter’s hands tightly. Zakia smiled and nodded, squeezing his hand and allowing his sentiments to turn to Din. 

“You’re welcome.” Din gave the other man a firm handshake. “I was told you could lead me to others of my kind.” 

A bob of his head confirmed he had indeed seen Mandalorians, and the Frog Man gestured towards the inn about fifty yards to the east. 

“The inn? Over there?” 

The Frog Man waved his hand for them to follow, and paused to help his wife carry their eggs before continuing on.

Zakia chewed on her bottom lip, casting a wary glance around the docks. The hair on her neck was standing up as if someone was watching, but no one seemed to pay them any mind. Beings of all shapes and sizes bustled about, but her and Din were the most standout of them all. 

“You okay?” Din rumbled from behind her, and Zakia could almost feel his chest brush her shoulder. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

They strode across the harbor, feet plodding through puddles and damp air seeping into their clothing. Zakia meandered to look at the scant market offerings, but there was nothing that said ‘necessity’ to her. Din was loitering over ten feet away when a hand grasped her shoulder, and Zakia spun around with her hand on her blaster. 

“Excuse me, but-  _ Gino?”  _

Standing not five paces away was Gino himself in all his Keshian, big-eyed glory. It had been a decade since Zakia had spoke to the hustler, let alone interacted with him in any other way. 

“Zakia, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Gino said. 

He had aged greatly since the last time she had seen him on Codia. His sandy hair had streaks of gray running through it, and his forehead was creased permanently by deep wrinkles. Gino still carried duel blasters- like herself- and walked with a sideways gate from a childhood knee injury. 

“Gino, Maker, it’s been years.” Zakia said, “Last time I saw you, I thought it would be last.”

It wasn’t meant to be an unpleasant statement, but Zakia was genuinely surprised to see her old mentor alive after all the years that had passed. Working for the Hutts during the war was a dangerous gig, and the New Republic had been hellbent on putting an end to the blackmarket trade routes that bisected the galaxy. 

“Damn, Dragant. Not happy to see an old friend?” 

Gino had never been squeaky clean, but he was someone Zakia used to trust with her life. A lot had changed since then, but she did smile at his familiar shtick. 

“I am, this planet was just the last place I expected to see an old friend.” She admitted. 

“Care to introduce me to your bodyguard? He’s looking pretty unhappy.” Gino nodded over Zakia’s shoulder. 

Din stood a couple paces behind her, one hand resting on his holster and the other hanging idly at his side. His shoulders were square and his posture imposing. The Mandalorian would tower over Gino if they stood side-by-side, but the Keshian seemed unbothered by his domineering presence. 

“Mando, this is Gino. He was the one who taught me to shoot on Codia.” Zakia introduced, “Gino, Mando. My partner in the Guild since all this-” She motioned to her face, “-happened.”

Gino surveyed the wall of beskar. “Stars, I ain’t seen a Mandalorian like you in years.” 

Din’s head tilted slightly. “What do you mean, like me?” 

“You don’t take the bucket off, do you?” 

Zakia glanced nervously between the men, waiting for Din to snap. 

“No living thing has seen my face since I swore the Creed.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re old fashioned, buddy.” Gino tapped his head in a mime of Din’s helmet. “You know there’s Mandos here on Trask, right?”

Din’s helmet inched up. “So I’ve heard..”

“Why don’t you two come on into the inn? I know the owner, he can get us a good table and we can talk. It’ll be like old times, blondie.” Gino pointed to the door that the Frogs had been leading them too. 

The Mandalorian dipped his head in agreement, and Gino led the way. Din lowered his voice and hung his helmet near Zakia’s shoulder. 

“You trust him?” 

Zakia shrugged. “Last time I saw him, yes. He used to be a trafficker for the Hutts, but was clean when I joined the Guild. Him and his wife were helping the villages on Codia to defend themselves from the Imps. When I stopped home on Codia ten years ago, it was the last time I saw him.” 

Din processed her short story as they entered the inn. Gino snapped at a Quarren behind the counter, who hustled over to them. 

“Good to see you, Gino. What can I do you for?”

“A table for three, please.” It was then he noticed the white pram floating near the Mandalorian’s back, and furrowed his brow. “Or four?”

Without questioning the odd trio, the Quarren herded them to a semi-private table near a small fireplace in the back corner. Din was quick to put his back to the wall and get the best view he could, while Zakia and Gino sat across from each other at the circular table. The pram slid open, and the baby cooed happily. He clambered out to sit on the stool across from Din. 

“What in Maker’s hell is that?” Gino asked, pointing to the chubby green face. 

Zakia situated the kid in his stool and allowed a server to fill a bowl with fishy-smelling chowder that held no appeal to her. 

“We don’t know.” Zakia admitted. “He kind of fell in our laps on a hunt, and we’re trying to get him back to his people.”

Gino’s big eyes resembled the kids, and he watched the tiny being slurp out of his bowl. 

“You’ve been all over, Gi. Ever hear of Jedi?”

The Keshian paused, flicking his gaze to Zakia. “So that’s why you guys are looking for Mandalorians.”

Din set a fist on the table. “What do you know about them?”

“They’re not as uptight as you, that’s for sure.” Gino ran his tongue across his teeth, “I might have some connections here to help you guys out.”

Zakia inclined her head, watching Din carefully as he sat straight-backed in his seat. 

“Any help you can give us something. We’ve been traveling a long time.” Zakia murmured the last part, and it came off more desperate than she intended. 

“As have I.” Gino adjusted his black raincoat and set his elbow on the table. “And I’ll tell you what I know about the Mandos.”

“It sounds like there’s conditions.” Din cut in. “Get to it.”

Zakia sent him a chastising stare, but turned back to Gino. “What do you need in return?”

His orange eyes were guarded. “Trask is a blackmarket port for a lot of things. Slaves, guns, spice, you name it. I landed here a month ago, looking for someone very important to me.”

Zakia furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Mari was taken from Codia a year ago. There was an invasion in one of the villages in the Kodiun Valley where she was teaching. Slave traders.” 

Zakia felt her stomach drop. Mari was as much a part of her life as Gino had been. She was also Keshian, with lavender-tinted eyes and inky hair. Mari had been married to Gino shortly after Zakia joined the Guild, and the blonde had only met her a couple times. Her old mentor was head over heels for the woman, and he hadn’t spoke of much else the last time she saw him. 

“I’m so sorry.” Zakia couldn’t fathom losing someone so close.

“She’s here on Trask?” Din inquired. 

The Mandalorian was one that vehemently opposed slavery. In spite of his mistrust towards Gino at first, he was sympathetic to the other man’s loss. 

“I believe so. I’ve tracked her the best I could with biometrics this whole time. The syndicate running this op has a base on the next harbor over. It’s camouflaged into the fishing operation, with high walls and a lot of men on base.” 

Gino pulled a holopad out of his satchel and set it on the table. A map of Trask displayed before them, and he pointed to a harbor to the east. 

“It’s a short voyage by ship. I need help to pick off the guards. I can shoot, but not that fast.” Gino looked at Zakia. “Can you still shoot?”

Out of a purely self-conscious instinct, Zakia rubbed her scarred cheek. 

“After it happened I couldn’t. I do now, I just get sore after a while.”

Gino nodded. “Help me get into the base. I know a guy who says he knows where the Mandos come from. I can take you to him.”

Zakia met Din’s visor, and nodded. “I’ll go with you, Gino. Mando needs to find the Mandalorians, but we can split up.”

“I have long-distance communicators on the ship.” Din’s voice was strained, and Zakia knew he didn’t like the idea of splitting up. 

Regardless, if they wanted to find the Mandalorians, it was necessary. Zakia knew Gino’s mission was dangerous as well, but there was no way she would let an old friend down. Especially one who had done as much for her as Gino. 

“I suppose we should get moving.”

* * *

Zakia and Gino boarded a freighter vessel to the next port over.

She had stopped by the Razor Crest on their way to the ship, picking up the rifle Din had got on Tatooine with the coordinating bracer and comlink. Din hooked a communicator on her belt as well, reminding her that he was only a jetpack flight away if they needed help. He left the inn with a Quarren captain, the baby’s pram floating behind him as they worked to find his people. 

“You two are a strange combination, Zakia.” Gino said as they settled in a lounge below the vessel’s top deck. 

Zakia folded herself into an old chair. “I’m not sure if I should take offence to that.”

Gino held his hands up. “Not in a bad way. Mando seems like the strong silent type, and you’re…”

“Loud? Mean?” Zakia laughed. “I’ve heard it all.”

“You said it, blondie.” Gino idly tapped the barrel of his rifle. “How long have you guys been partners?”

Zakia let out a low whistle. “Now you’re gonna make me think. I met him the same year I saw you last, but we didn’t work together full time until a couple years after that. I got attacked by a Wookiee and was in bad shape. Mando sort of rescued me.”

“Fightin’ with Wookiees in your spare time?” 

“It was a dirty Guild Agent’s fault. I didn’t collect fast enough for him, so he issued two more fobs. One to the Wookiee, and one to Mando. It just so happened we all ended up there at the same time. Shit went sideways, you know?” Zakia’s abbreviated version was all Gino needed.

“Oh, I do. That’s for damn sure.”

When the ferry docked at its destination, Gino pressed a pouch of credits into the captain’s hand. The Quarren exited his ship without question, leaving all of the doors to the crow’s nest unlocked. 

“You head up, and I’ll get in position on the other ship.” Gino concealed his face with a large hood. 

Zakia fastened her own headwrap, only two blonde braids peeking out of the bottom. “Beep me when you’re in place. We can pick off the perimeter security and move in.”

Gino did as they agreed, and Zakia hustled up into the bridge of the ship. The map of the base he had shown her was exactly how she saw it now. The slave trade hub was a square conglomeration of storage containers and old ships. Several men paced the top of the containers, scattered about at varying heights. 

When Zakia had inquired about ground security, she was assured it lacked in comparison. Gino explained to her that the perimeter guards kept the hostages in check with warning shots and stun guns, and only a few men patrolled the inside. Once they picked off the outer security, it was a short run from the ferries to the base, where they could scale the wall and take out the rest of the patrols. 

“I’m in position.” Zakia spoke into her comlink once she made it to the top of the freighter. She laid on her belly, setting up the rifle and syncing her gear. She scanned for heat signatures, and began marking each target from highest to lowest altitude.

_ “I’m almost there.”  _ Gino returned. 

“I see thirteen men on the outer perimeter.” Zakia murmured as she looked through the scope. “Some are at a higher elevation, so they’ll have to go first.”

_ “You have a silencer for that rifle?”  _

Zakia reached into the slim case, withdrawing said item. It was a sleek silencer that fit snugly over the muzzle. “I do now.”

_ “You’re out of practice, I see.” _

She snorted. “I usually only fire a couple shots while hunting, none of which require a muzzle.”

_ “Fair enough.”  _ Gino huffed.  _ “I’m setting up now. Send me your target marks and we’ll divy them up.” _

Zakia tapped on her bracer and sent the details through their com network. “I’ll take odd numbers.”

_ “Gonna shoot first?” _

“Ladies first.” Zakia hunkered down to the scope, seeking out the guard positioned at the highest point. 

_ “Whenever you’re ready.” _

Zakia inhaled deeply, training her crosshairs on the guards head. She measured the distance and the wind speed, then adjusted her aim by a few inches. On a slow exhale, she squeezed the trigger. 

The rifle kicked back into her shoulder, and she watched her target hit the ground like a sack of bricks. 

_ “Nice shot.”  _ Gino commented. 

Zakia tracked her scope to number two, who was unaware of his comrade’s demise. She watched him collapse in a heap, and moved onto her next target. Gino and her went back and forth in rapid succession, until there were only three left. 

“Firing on eleven.” 

Zakia pulled the trigger and watched the guard go down, only to hear shouts of alarm. “Shit! What’s going on?”

_ “Thirteen turned as eleven went down.” _

She pressed back into the scope, and fired another shot into one of the guards before he could sound the alarm and get the whole base into action. Gino must have did the same, as there was no more movement on the top of the base. 

_ “I think we caught them. Let’s move.” _

Zakia slung her rifle onto her back, hustling down the crow’s nest and out of the ship. She met up with Gino near the base’s wall. It was at least ten feet high, and there was no ladder in sight. It still wasn’t safe to charge through the front door, so they were forced to improvise. 

“Let me give you a boost.” Gino said, “If you cover me, I can go to the front gate. Tell me what you see inside.”

The Keshian caged his fingers together, and Zakia stepped into them with a hand on Gino’s shoulder. It was vastly different than working with the imposing Mandalorian, but Zakia’s adrenaline was rushing high like never before. 

Gino pushed up with his hands, and Zakia used her legs to jump. She managed to catch the edge of the wall, and hoisted the rest of her body up shortly after. Gino was gone by the time she looked back, and Zakia made sure to keep low to the ground. 

She crawled to the edge of the wall, setting up her rifle and looking into the base. Groups of people milled about, covered in filth and obviously starving. The base couldn't have been more than fifty or sixty square meters, but there were hundreds of slaves within. Zakia counted another fifteen guards, along with an enclosed corner that she assumed was where the boss communicated with the outside world. 

“I see fifteen guards, so more than we thought. Perimeter wall is still clear of hostiles, and I’m not picking up on any com transmissions to them.” Zakia whispered into her link. 

_ “I’m climbing the north wall now.”  _

Zakia began to scan the faces through her rifle scope. Men, women, and children of all different races and cultures were contained within. Some emaciated, some sickly, and others who looked to be new. Anklets were affixed to all of them, flashing red in eerie synchronicity. Zakia started with the side closest to her, and began to check every female face. 

A mop of black hair caught her eye, and Zakia zeroed in on the figure. It was hard to distinguish anything at first due to the filth, but Zakia was certain it was Mari. The face shape and wide Keshian eyes, both lackluster due to the conditions. Every memory she had of Mari was cheery and bright, and he mind had a hard time connecting this shell of a person to someone she once knew. 

Nevertheless, she radioed Gino. “South east corner, in the big group with the Togruta family. I found her, Gino. Mari is there.”

_ “Let’s not celebrate until we’re through. Start picking them off, but be careful.” _

Zakia grinned, hunkering into her sights. “My pleasure.”


	8. CHAPTER VIII: THE DEAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, welcome back and happy holidays. I'm going to try and keep writing as much as I can while I have a break from school and work, so stay tuned! :)
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/subs/follows/favorites/bookmarks make my day every time I get a notification! <3

As night fell on Trask, Zakia broke through the main entrance of the blackmarket base. 

Gino trailed behind, reloading his blaster cartridges. They had picked off all of the men whilst on the wall, leaving a complex full of terrified people. Wary eyes watched the pair push through the door. Women gripped their children, and others huddled together for safety. Zakia took a step forward, intent on searching Mari out of the group. However, she was curious as to why the indentured were not running towards the entrance as soon as it was taken from enemy hands. 

“You’re free to go.” Zakia urged, motioning to the gaping hole in the metal wall now free of a barricade. 

“The monitors keep us here.” 

Gino and Zakia eyed the Rakata who had spoken. In tandem, their gaze fell to the anklets each person had. 

“We’ve got to start gettin’ these off.” Gino knelt by a young man’s foot and began fiddling with the device as Zakia surveyed the compound.

Gino and herself were certainly imposing, in their black outfits and with concealed faces. Both had long guns slung over their shoulders, and dual pistols on their legs. Zakia understood why the slaves were being so withdrawn, but something still seemed off to her. 

It wasn’t until she took a step forward that one of them actually made contact with her. A bony hand wrapped around her wrist, squeezing tight. It belonged to a mousy-haired woman with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. 

“There are many of them. The walls are hollow.” 

_ The walls are hollow.  _

Zakia’s blood ran cold, and she looked to the walls of the base. 

_ A square conglomeration of storage containers.  _

The gate they had broken through, a metal door broken from an old storage container, suddenly creaked, swinging back shut. Gino pulled both pistols, wielding them upwards in anticipation. 

“They’ve known since we breached the wall.” Zakia breathed. Goosebumps shot across her entire body, and she stepped back with pistols drawn. 

As if they were cued by some twisted playwright, beings began to filter into the pit. They came from the top of the wall, and man-made doors etched into the storage containers. Zakia and Gino began firing as fast as they could, picking off enemies as they approached. 

“ Pomekiuog ateema!” 

Zakia recognized the demands to surrender, even in Huttese. The slave traders’ numbers continued to grow, and she felt their chances slipping. The only way she was giving up is if they dragged her away screaming. 

And if their shrinking odds meant anything, they probably would. 

Zakia continued to fire, up until the point her pistols were out of cartridge and she was backed against a wall. The group was made up of Kubaz, Trandoshan, Twi’lek, and various species of smugglers. She knew the slave syndicates were far-reaching and numerous, but seeing this many men work together to enslave others made her absolutely sick.

“Any ideas?” Gino shouted over his blaster fire. 

“Is negotiation on the table?” Zakia breathed as she pulled her knife. Gino did the same, pistols becoming useless shortly after hers.

“Worth a shot.” 

Zakia raised her voice so it reached the approaching men. “Jee-jee are wata che wanga!”  _ We are here for only one.  _

Her Huttese was rusty, but it was worth a shot. Zakia sent a silent thanks to the Maker that she had picked up the language over her time in the Guild.

“Nobata wanga nenoleeya!”  _ No one leaves!  _

“Uba will nee choo wata!”  _ You will die here! _

Zakia bit her lip, trying her last ditch effort to stall their demise. “ Whao uba jot mi nem, Meecooda woy uba.”  _ If you let me live, I can make you rich.  _

“Puohesa.”  _ Explain _ . 

The last command came from a towering Trandoshan that was decorated in fancy coats and shining armor. He seemed to be the leader of the operation, as the men surrounding them- now outnumbering them by at least twenty- bowed out of his way. 

“Jee bla see wa wah chee dah tah planeeto kanu koumhaptece cuee ai kae shag.” _ I know of a bounty on this planet worth far more than any slave.  _

It wasn’t a lie, but Zakia was sure as hell not giving up the location of the Child, nor telling these smugglers who the bounty was. 

“Kava che?”  _ How much? _

Zakia came up with a random number that would satisfy them. “Domon don keemon dokwacha.”  _ Two hundred thousand.  _ “Meecooda paknee ata uba heee.”  _ I can take you to it.  _

The boss seemed to consider her offer for a moment, and turned to a Kubaz to his left. They hissed back and forth, allowing Gino a moment to whisper at Zakia.

“We need to take a few and pick them off outside. Regroup.”

Zakia sensed the pain in his voice as he was pulled further away from getting Mari back. “Gino, we’re not going to be able to-”

_ WHOOSH.  _

Everyone in the vicinity ducked automatically as a streak of gold shot overhead. It was mechanical and fiery, leaving behind the slightest exhaust trail. Zakia’s hands covered her neck as she anticipated a drone strike, but it never came. She peeked up at the sky, again catching a glimpse in spite of the dark sky. 

It was then she realized that the lights were indeed from exhaust trails and thrusters, most likely affixed to jetpacks. 

Not any jetpack, either. It was the telltale high-pitched whistle of a  _ Rising Phoenix. _

Once they came near enough for her to recognize their armor and helmets, Zakia let out a breath. Four figures rocketed downward, landing in the narrow space between Gino and Zakia and their encroaching enemy. One being Din, gloriously familiar in his silver beskar. He was flanked by two women and a man, all outfitted with various colors of blue paint and designs on their helmets. 

The firing began as abruptly as it had ended. The familiar ‘ping’ of blaster bolts off beskar, and the thuds of hand-to-hand combat. The Mandalorians were ruthless fighters, as Zakia had known Din to be. They fought with smooth and deadly skill, gracefully lethal and only firing shots when they couldn’t snap a neck with their own hands or get close enough to do so.

Zakia took the moment of cover to reload her blasters and nudge Gino. “Go get Mari. They’ll get us out of here.”

The Keshian hustled away, firing a few shots with fresh cartridges. Zakia stepped to Din’s left with her own blasters, firing into the stragglers which remained. Most had fled at the sight of Mandalorians, but the blue-painted ones chased them down. The chaos reigned for less than two minutes, four Mandalorians almost unstoppable as shots simply ricocheted off their armor. The complex slowly descended into quiet, the only noise being that of whimpering people. 

Din holstered his weapons as Zakia approached. 

“Thanks for the rescue. We didn’t expect such a large number of men.” She looked to the trio of unknown Mandalorians that were using various tools in their armor to permanently open the front gate. “I see you found what you were looking for?” 

“Not exactly.” Din said. “I was about to leave them when I tracked your location.” 

Zakia screwed up her forehead in confusion. “Leave them? We came here for them.”

“I’ll explain later.” His hand drifted to her back as the aforementioned approached.

The entry into the complex was wide open, the slab of metal tied in place with rope and cable. Bodies were strewn about, and those previously captive frantically tried to free each other from their anklets. 

“Have I sufficiently proven our worth?” 

Zakia cocked a single brow at the female voice. It came through a familiar vocoder, out of the helmet decorated most extravagantly with patterns and a rich blue. Her hands rose far enough to grasp the sides of her helmet and pull it off as she approached. 

The blonde stared as the helmet revealed a red-headed woman wearing a thick headband that acted as a comlink and control piece. She turned her head to the side, eyeing the only Mandalorian familiar to her. 

“So, not what we were looking for?” 

With a breathy chuckle, the red-head spoke to Zakia. “Not according to your friend, no.”

Din sighed. “Your help is greatly appreciated, but I did not ask for it.”

“Will you at least allow us to buy you a drink? Your friend is welcome.” Her voice was calm and soothing- a leader’s voice. This idea was reinforced by the other two Mandalorians she seemed to have the respect of, both standing to the side but ready to move at a moment’s notice. 

“Allow us a moment.” Din ushered Zakia a few feet away, into a corner far enough away that no one could hear them. She deemed his behaviour unusual, but it was not often they ran into other living, breathing Mandalorians anymore. Din was distant, less hovering than he had been in recent weeks. Zakia suspected he was trying to protect her, no matter how many allies they seemed to have. 

Away from the group, she could almost taste the salt on his clothes and smell the seawater that seemed to permeate every inch of him. 

“Is everything alright?” 

Din ducked his helmet. “The kid is with the Frog couple. We were ambushed on the ship, but-”

“Ambushed?” Zakia exclaimed, examining him for injuries. “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting there.” Din chided. “It was Koresh all over again. They wanted the beskar, but Bo-Katan and her people saved me.”

Over her shoulder, the Mandalorians were helping free slaves of their anklets and allowing them an easy path out. Zakia did her best to inspect them inconspicuously. 

“They show their faces?” The fact that they found Mandalorians was no less interesting, but Zakia was far more intrigued by the removal of a face covering. 

_ ‘Our secrecy is our strength’.  _

Din had repeated the mantra to her many times, and Zakia had taken it at face value to include all Mandalorians. 

“They claim to be descendants of those from Mandalore.” His voice was a rumble, low to avoid detection and thick with a strange emotion Zakia could not find it in her to pinpoint. 

“But if they don’t cover their faces, how is that-”

“She says the faction I was raised in belonged to zealots.” Din’s tone remained even despite the evident irritation in his posture. “But those who don’t cover their face do not follow the Way.”

“I explained to your partner that he is a Child of the Watch.” 

Bo-Katan, Zakia assumed, stood a mere foot or two away, lips turned up in the corners in what could be taken as a smug grin.

“Care to explain what that means? I’ve never met a Mandalorian who willingly shows their face.” Zakia stepped around Din to face the other woman. 

Bo-Katan was at least five inches taller and covered in beskar, but Zakia stood firm. The Mandalorian woman surveyed her opposer, managing to look partially intimidated by her boldness.

“Have you ever met another Mandalorian besides this one? I do not feel the need to provide an answer to questions posed by outsiders such as yourself.” 

“Enough. It’s time we go our separate ways.” Din cupped Zakia’s elbow gently, removing her from Bo-Katan’s space. 

As she was tugged away, she noticed the other two from their group had replaced their helmets and appeared ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Zakia scoffed at all three, shoving Din’s had off of her arm. 

“We will be staying to aid in the slave’s emancipation.” Bo-Katan declared.

In sync, the trio turned and headed into the crowd of people. Zakia rounded on Din, pointing a finger at his chest. “She’s lucky she’s covered in beskar.”

“Relax. They are not Mandalorian as I know it.” Din said, “We need to find Gino and return to the mainland. We’re leaving this planet.”

Zakia adjusted the rifle strap as it laid over her chest. She scanned faces for any that looked familiar, doing a double take on a dark head of hair that was facing away from her. The woman was accompanied by an even more familiar man, and Zakia smiled. 

“Gino! Mari!” 

Both bodies spun a rapid circle. Mari’s face was thin and sunken in around her eyes, but the expression hadn’t changed in the years that passed. 

*

_ “The Bounty Hunter’s Guild. I’m impressed, Zakia!”  _

_ Zakia sat in Mari’s tiny kitchen, watching as the Keshian woman brewed a pot of tea. The cool breeze from Codia’s mountains swept in the cracked window, keeping the room at a comfortable temperature.  _

_ “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without Gino’s help. He’s taught me a lot.” She cupped her mug with two hands, letting the warm caf inside thaw out her fingers. “I’m just glad it’s legitimate work, you know?” _

_ Mari, unfortunately, was all too familiar with illegitimate work. Gino had been caught up in several cartels and blackmarket trades before he started to flee. Zakia had spent many nights with Mari, praying for the safe return of her foolish partner.  _

_ “Do I ever.” Mari agreed, “I saw both Niyo and Fennec fall by the wayside, I wish anything but that for you.” _

_ Chewing on her lip, Zakia nodded. Fennec had been a good friend, and visited Codia many times to train with Zakia, but her skills were tainted by Niyo’s corruption. He was influenced by the Hutts and twisted far away from the teen who grew up several years older than Zakia in the same school.  _

_ “I want to do good, Mari. You know that.” _

_ Mari smiled. “Of course, Zakia. And you will do good- it’s who you are.” _

*

“Zakia!” 

Mari’s voice was an icy relief after her confrontation with Bo-Katan. Fire was rushing through her veins, and the voice of an old friend allowed elation to replace the anger. Zakia jogged towards her and Gino, wrapping both of them in a hug. She slung an arm around each of their shoulders, squeezing tight. 

“I can’t believe you’re both here.” Zakia murmured, taking a step back. 

Mari reached out and held onto one of Zakia’s hands. “You saved me.”

“Oh no. Gino had the plan, I just happened into it.” She glanced at Din, who was standing about ten feet away. His helmet was turned to the side as if it provided some semblance of privacy. “We both would have been dead if it wasn’t for him.”

Mari followed Zakia’s eyes, pressing near Gino’s side as she drank in Din’s appearance. “I thought I saw Mandalorians.”

“I know how you feel about them, Mar. But he’s good. Kept Zakia safe all these years. Isn’t that right?” Gino directed his words towards Din, motioning for him to join them. 

The Mandalorian approached slowly, sensing Mari’s discomfort. Zakia took note of the fear, and reached her hands out to Din. 

“I’ve done my best to keep her in line.” He answered Gino’s question, giving Mari a wide birth and staying near Zakia. 

The blonde folded her outstretched arms around his arm, squeezing fondly. “Mari, this is my partner Mando. Mando, Mari.”

Gino’s wife stared at Zakia a moment, then at their entwined arms. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mando. Any friend of Zakia’s is a friend of mine.”

Din dipped his helmet in a respectful greeting. “Thank you. Zakia has spoken very highly of you both.” 

Mari was emboldened enough to place a hand on Zakia’s arm, near Mando’s cuirass. “I’m thankful for your presence. The Makers knew Gino needed you. We must catch up.”

Zakia looked to Din. “We needed supplies from the market, right?” 

Despite his obvious discomfort with staying longer than necessary, the Mandalorian nodded. “Yes. Rations are running low.”

Gino looked around. More and more people were free of their anklets, heading to the open doors. Bo-Katan and her crew were working on placing small devices throughout the base, and Zakia deduced them to be blast charges. They were going to destroy the walls. 

“Mari and I are going to get people on the freighter and get back to the main port. Feel free to join us.”

“Are you going to fly back?” Zakia asked Din, tapping a finger on the jetpack. 

He surveyed the complex. “Not if you’re going on the boat. I’ll stay with you.”

* * *

In hindsight, Din should have figured that Bo-Katan wouldn’t let him slip away that easy. 

He boarded the freighter behind the last of the freed slaves, Zakia, Gino and Mari on either side. They all settled below deck, and women bustled about as they tried to make tea for everyone aboard. 

Zakia was thrilled to be back with her old friends, and Din was intrigued to hear their stories. Mari and Gino were almost parent-like to Zakia, congratulating her successes and commending her for effort in situations that did not go as planned. Mari fussed over the scar on Zakia’s cheek, causing Din to become the slightest bit protective over her, but he kept it at a simmer. 

They were almost an hour into the cruise when Bo-Katan appeared in the galley hallway. Din saw her before anyone else, and stood from Zakia’s side to approach her. 

“What do you want?” 

She shrugged. “I have some things to discuss with you. And as I said before, she is welcome.”

Din followed Bo-Katan’s gaze to Zakia as she approached slowly. Her movements were stiff and slow, as if Bo-Katan was a cat waiting to strike. The animosity was tangible, and Din could only hope that sitting down with the apparent imposters could smooth it over. He was insulted by their accusations at his covert, and torn by their behavior. While Din had never met a Mandalorian who removed their helmet, Bo-Katan’s knowledge of his culture went far beyond that of a casual bystander who had come into possession of Mandalorian armor. 

In short, his brain was scrambling to hold onto a solid answer. 

After agreeing to a meeting, Din and Zakia followed Bo-Katan to a secluded bulkhead normally used as the captain’s quarters. There, the other two possible Mandalorians were seated on a small couch. A brief introduction followed, identifying them as Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. Zakia and Din ended up on another small loveseat, with Bo-Katan occupying a lone chair that sat at the end of a small caf table. Their thighs were pressed together, beskar to canvas, their close proximity and apparent comfort monitored closely by the mysterious trio. 

“Trask is a black market port.” Bo-Katan started, keeping her voice low. “They’re staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet. We’re seizing those weapons and using them to retake our home world.”

Her words were met with nods from Koska and Axe, while Din stared forward. She couldn’t actually be referencing Mandalore, not with the havoc the Empire had unleashed upon it. The covert had often said it was a cursed world, serving nothing but death to those who stepped foot upon it. 

“Once we’ve done that, we’ll seat a new Mandalore on the throne.”

Din felt Zakia’s eyes on him, and he suppressed the instinct to shake his head. “That planet it cursed. Anyone who goes there dies. Once the Empire knew they couldn’t control it, they made sure no one else could either.” 

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Bo-Katan told him. “Our enemies wanna separate us. But Mandalorians are stronger together.”

“That’s not part of my plan.” Din’s arm stretched the length of the couch behind Zakia. We’ve been quested to return the Child to the Jedi.” 

Again, the trio watched all interactions between Din and Zakia with extreme scrutiny. Din assumed they were not thrilled that an outsider was hearing their plans, though he decided not reading into it was better for everyone involved. 

“What do you know about the Jedi?” 

“We don’t know a whole lot.” Zakia spoke up, “That’s why we were looking for other Mandalorians.”

“I was hoping you would help me by Creed.” Din added. 

Koska and Axe exchanged a look that told Din they knew something, and Bo-Katan smirked. 

“I can lead you to one of their kind. But first we need your help on our mission.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
